


10 Meters to Heaven

by SunriseSeaMonster



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Athlete and Journalist, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dongju is a diver, Dongju is a little prickly, Dongmyeong is also a diver, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Geonhak is a journalist, Hwanwoong - yep also a diver, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Now with Chinese translation available, Platform diving, Reference to Mental Health Struggles, Seoho/Hyungu if you squint, but today is apparently not that day, light alcohol consumption, one day I will write something without a fluffy/soft ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25352368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseSeaMonster/pseuds/SunriseSeaMonster
Summary: Yeo Hwanwoong and the Son twins - Dongju and Dongmyeong - are among Korea's elite 10m platform diving athletes.Kim Geonhak is the reluctant sportswriter tasked with reporting on Korea's diving scene, and Dongju is not here for his ignorance of the sport.  Or anything about him, it seems.Bummer, 'cause he's really,reallyattractive, in an angry sort of way....___________________Chinese translation now available, courtesy ofsummertalk. Availablehereorhere. Thank you!!
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion
Comments: 109
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kindly excuse any discrepancies from the real worlds of competitive diving, journalism, travel, love, humans, life, the universe, etc. I do what I can, but sometimes... things just happen, y'know? 
> 
> Many thanks to [I.](https://twitter.com/isaklikethat) for beta reading and being all around awesome.

“You are the worst,” Geonhak tells his boss. He slumps into the leather chair in Youngjo’s office.

“That’s fine,” says Youngjo, putting his elbows on his desk. “I might be the worst, but it turns out I still think you’re the best. Well, the best of my available options, anyway. And that’s why I’m sending you to these events. Can you imagine if I sent Hyangsook?”

Yes, Geonhak can imagine it. He groans. “We’d get 400 words of description about how good the catering was, and she’d forget to tell the readers who won.” 

Youngjo nods. “Wouldn’t make sense to send my home and lifestyle writer, not at all. Geonhak, do you have any idea how lucky we are to have more than one sportswriter on the payroll? The fact that you’re complaining because this stretch of events is not your _favorite_ sports beat – when this will only be a temporary assignment – is, quite frankly, a little pathetic to me.” 

Geonhak’s whine loses some of its intensity. “Hyung, you know I hate judged sports. The results always seem totally arbitrary.” 

Youngjo’s face takes on a sharp edge. “Don’t push it. Sports are sports, and I didn’t hire you to look down on entire disciplines just because they’re not your exact favorite personal pastimes.” He sighs, relaxes the corners of his eyes. “You know as well as I do that Seoho will be back as soon as he can. But what I do not intend to do is to pressure him to come back from paternity leave one second before he’s ready. Have some compassion, Geonhak.” 

The sportswriter lets his shoulders sag as he nods. Youngjo is right; their media outlet is lucky to usually have two sportswriters on staff, and working with Seoho has spoiled Geonhak. They have completely different sports interests, so splitting up the workload has never been an issue. Covering Seoho’s department is the least Geonhak can do while his colleague enjoys his new baby daughter. 

“You owe me, hyung,” he grumbles, but they both know his heart isn’t in it. He scoots the chair closer to Youngjo’s desk and traces over the _Korea News Weekly_ logo etched onto the surface.

They go over the rough schedule for Geonhak’s next few months, including fairly extensive travel plans. There’s a lot to take in, and precious little of his usual work routine will remain the same; his head spins.

Geonhak’s already got his hand on the door when Youngjo’s voice cuts through his flurry of thoughts. “Geonhak-ah?” 

“Yeah?” 

“At least try to have fun.” 

The best Geonhak can do is nod wordlessly before ducking out of the office. 

_____ 

Why couldn’t Geonhak have started reporting on a new sport at a lower level competition? Something a little less high-pressured? Couldn’t Seoho’s baby girl have chosen a better time to be born?! But _nooo,_ here he is on the first day of the Korean Diving National Championship, pulling into a parking space at the aquatic center just in time to watch a crowd of excited fans with signs scurry past. 

_Yeo Hwanwoong, diving angel!_ says one sign. _Yeo Hwanwoong, somersault magician!_ says another. _Son Twins forever!_ reads one particularly glitter-covered sign.

Geonhak decides, as he locks his car, that he needn’t have read up on the competitors before arriving at the competition; the fans are giving away loud and clear who the favorites are. It’s a sea of _Yeo Hwanwoong_ signs, with a scattering of _Son Dongju_ and _Son Dongmyeong_ signs, and then a much smaller contingent of other names. 

He picks up his press tag at the media desk and makes his way to the journalists’ seating area, located immediately adjacent to the diving well. 

He’d forgotten just how hot and humid it gets inside these aquatic centers, heating on full blast to ensure the safety and comfort of the athletes. The heat, in conjunction with the large volume of pool water, turns the venue into a muggy sauna. Geonhak wishes he’d worn something other than an undershirt beneath his suit jacket, and the long jeans really aren’t helping. At this rate, he’ll have sweated off a clothing size by the end of the day. 

He’s just gotten settled in his seat when the women begin warming up for the 10-meter synchronized event. They take various approaches to warming up, some choosing to begin with a gentle somersault into the water from poolside, others climbing swiftly straight up the tower. 

Two women reach the top. They seem awfully relaxed given the height, patting themselves down with their shammy towels, then tossing the shammies 10 meters down from the platform. They exchange a few casual glances and words – Geonhak wishes he could lip-read, but there’s not a chance – especially not from this distance. It’s _so_ far off the ground. He shudders. 

Before he can wrap his mind around the height, they’ve launched themselves into the air – a perfect duet of a dive, their bodies ever so briefly becoming paper airplanes floating in an elegant arc, before plunging into the water at a terrifying speed. Before he can even process the extraordinary sight he has just witnessed, they’re climbing out of the pool, grabbing their shammies from where they landed, and walking casually back to the ladder to wait another turn. 

It’s not that Geonhak’s never seen platform diving before; he’s just never seen it at such a high skill level – not live in person, anyway. When he was a competitive swimmer, it was surprisingly easy to avoid “the diving people,” whom he’d always viewed as, well, a little weird. 

But this… this is magnificent. Another pair of women approach the end of the platform, and almost without any discussion at all, they twist their bodies into the air like fireworks. 

One of the divers creates quite a bit of splash as she enters the pool, and her partner leans in with a quick comment, as their coach shouts an encouragement and correction from the sidelines. 

_Splash is bad._ That much Geonhak remembers.

The competition starts in earnest, and the divers plunge in fearlessly, taking their turns in rotation across several rounds. What impresses Geonhak the most – beyond the insane aerial acrobatics – is how quickly the judges score each dive. They instantly select a number, and the scores flash up on the large screen so fast that the divers are sometimes not even out of the pool yet. 

_There’s no way they can accurately judge these dives that quickly,_ thinks Geonhak. _They must just be making half of this up as they go along._

The 10-meter women’s synchro event is followed by the men’s solo 3-meter springboard, which is followed by a break in the competition. 

It’s during this break that Geonhak conducts his first few tentative interviews with the winners of the completed rounds, playing it safe with neutral questions like, “How do you feel about how you did today?” He groans inwardly at the cringiness of it all. _I’m not usually this much of an idiot,_ he wants to tell the competitors. _I just know nothing about whether you actually deserve that medal._ He can imagine their faces if he actually said any of this out loud.

Finally, Geonhak has a chance to get a snack and check his messages. 

**Boss-man Youngjo**  
 _Having fun yet?_

**Geonhak**   
_Splendid! Everything’s great! So, so great!_

**Boss-man Youngjo**  
 _Don’t be an asshat. It’s pretty cool, right?_

**Geonhak**  
 _Cool? Not so much. Sweltering. Amazonian. Next time I’m wearing a bikini._

**Boss-man Youngjo**  
 _I’m not paying you extra for that, and I’m pretty sure our insurance doesn’t cover it._

**Geonhak**  
 _Fine, I’ll just melt, one atom at a time, in this sauna they call a national championship venue._

**Boss-man Youngjo**  
 _Whatever, just don’t pass out on me before you get a chance to interview the Son twins and Yeo Hwanwoong. I’ve heard rumors of a shakeup to the synchro lineup... If that’s true, the story might be more interesting than just detailing who won and by which margins_

**Geonhak**  
 _Noted. You got it._

That _does_ sound more promising, really. Geonhak’s not sure he can make it through three days of the competition talking only about diving scores. A human interest angle, a shakeup of any sort, as Youngjo had put it… yeah, that sounds intriguing.

On the second day of competition, Geonhak is better prepared. He wears an athletic, sweat-wicking tee and long shorts, and he brings a large bottle of water. _Bring it on, sauna._

He realizes sometime in the middle of the women’s solo 3-meter springboard that he’s enjoying himself. What these athletes are doing is amazing, and when they get it right, when everything clicks and they disappear seamlessly below the surface off the water without a single ripple, his breath catches. 

Geonhak begins to anticipate whether scores will be slightly higher or lower in the split-second before the judges’ marks appear on the board. Maybe it’s just not that complicated. Well, the finer details are, but it’s taken him less than 48 hours to learn to differentiate a good dive from an exceptional one – a 9 or a 9.5 point dive. There haven’t been any 10s given yet. 

The men’s 10-meter synchronized teams are introduced to the crowd, and a roar follows the announcement of Son Dongmyeong and Son Dongju, representing Team Suwon. 

As soon as the Son twins begin diving, Geonhak understands what all the buzz is about. They’re both graceful and lean, like so many of the divers at this level, but somehow their coordination and timing are far beyond the skills of any of their competitors. The taller one – Dongju, maybe? – seems just the tiniest bit less skilled than his brother, but the scores for both are very high, round after round. The judges grading their degree of synchronization are giving them high marks. It’s probably the twin thing, the effortless way they barely talk before leaping in perfect unison off the platform. 

By the final round, it’s clear that the Son twins are head and shoulders above the rest of the men’s synchro divers, and Geonhak reflects that the pressure must be entirely off their shoulders. A win is within easy reach. 

They dive off the platform, and Geonhak immediately sees why the entire audience gasps – Dongmyeong’s positioning is just slightly off. He enters the water at an awkward angle, creating a massive wave that overtops the surface of the pool, water crashing onto the tiled floor beneath the diving tower. 

Both of the brothers exit the pool with a gasp, and Geonhak sees Dongju lean in toward his twin for a short, tense exchange. Dongmyeong’s body language is visibly distressed. 

Their final score takes an agonizing extra second or two to flash up on the board, as the audience waits in tense silence; the Son twins maintain their win by a razor-thin margin, narrowly becoming National Champions. Dongju and Dongmyeong don’t smile with relief; they share a murderous glance in each other’s direction. Dongmyeong wrings out his shammy with a death grip.

 _Ugh._ This will be a fun winner’s interview. Great. 

Geonhak makes his way down to the tiled floor and finds the twins. 

“Hello!” he says. “My name is Kim Geonhak. I’m with Korea Sports Weekly, and I would like to congratulate you on your victory.” 

“Hello.” They bow and thank him on his congratulations, but the mood remains tense. 

Geonhak doesn’t want to upset them further, but neither does he want to give up this opportunity for an interesting article about a lesser-known sport. 

“Dongmyeong-ssi,” he says. “It seems that maybe your last dive was not up to your usual standards. Were you feeling the pressure of becoming National Champion?” 

Before Dongmyeong can speak, Dongju cuts in, eyes icy and jaw clenched. “He did fine. We won. We’re happy to win and honored to represent Korea in international competition, going forward.” His voice is deeper than Geonhak had anticipated, somehow.

Dongmyeong rolls his eyes. “I pretty much ate it out there. I just didn’t get a good tuck on my first somersault and that’s all it takes. Luckily, we had Dongju’s beautiful dive to save us.” Geonhak’s not sure whether there’s a tinge of bitterness mixed in with the pride in his voice. His expression certainly seems to be a conflicted mix of emotions. 

Geonhak considers his next statement carefully but decides to go for it. “Is it true that Dive Korea leadership is considering changing the roster for the men’s 10-meter synchronized team?” 

“Which one of us do you want to see gone?” hisses Dongju, icy eyes replaced now by an outright fiery glare. He looks _beautiful,_ Geonhak realizes. Beautiful… and extremely, extremely angry. 

“No, I just… I had heard that might be the case. I have no personal interest in seeing either of you gone; in fact, I hardly know diving well at all.” Geonhak tries a small, apologetic smile. 

“Then why are you here? If you don’t know or care anything about what we do?” asks Dongju. 

Dongmyeong grabs his brother’s arm. “Dongju-yah, don’t be like this.” He looks pained – and tired. 

“I apologize.” Geonhak bows slightly. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” 

The Son twins’ coach arrives and greets the reporter. “Lee Chanjoo. Pleasure to meet you. Are we done here?” she asks. 

Geonhak looks back and forth at the twins’ faces – one nearly engulfed in flames of rage, the other exhausted. 

“Yes, thank you so much for your time,” he says. 

As he’s walking back to his car, one thought repeats itself in his mind: _At least there’s no possible way for tomorrow to be this awkward!_

The third and final day of competition begins, and Geonhak finds himself cheering for good dives along with the rest of the crowd. The spectators are all keyed up, and Geonhak knows why: their hero, Korea’s diving darling – Yeo Hwanwoong – will be competing for the men’s solo 10-meter national title. 

Geonhak sits back and enjoys the events preceding the headlining 10-meter event. He’s intrigued by the mixed teams – men and women diving together – but isn’t surprised to learn from a quick internet search that this is a newer discipline. The mixed teams seem just a little rougher around the edges. 

Finally, the big-ticket event arrives. Even during warmup, Geonhak is flabbergasted by the skills being performed. A quadruple somersault?! In the time it takes to plummet 10 meters into a pool of water? 

And here’s Yeo Hwanwoong, climbing up the ladder – shorter than the rest of his competitors, not that any of the divers are particularly tall. Unlike swimming, the sport to which Geonhak devoted so much of his life, divers appear to be of average or shorter height. 

_Though,_ he can’t help himself thinking, _Some of them carry themselves as though they were tall – like royalty._ An enraged, regal face comes to mind, eyes in flames and mouth twisted into an angry pout. 

Hwanwoong finishes his climb to the top of the ladder and prepares to dive. He flings his shammy down and positions himself for a handstand on the edge of the platform. 

It’s not the first time Geonhak’s seen handstand dives at this competition, but he has _never_ in his life seen anything like the way Hwanwoong holds this position. He must have enormous control over his body and the way it moves – or in this case, doesn’t move. Geonhak can see his ribcage moving in and out with each breath and shudders to think of the stamina and mental stability needed to hold this handstand for so long, at what is effectively the edge of a manmade cliff. 

Finally, Hwanwoong kicks his legs up and out, twists and tumbles in the air, then straightens perfectly, slipping under the water without a ripple. 

Geonhak is fascinated, nearly tuning out the roar from the spectators. And this is only the warmup…? 

The competition brings out a few surprises; a few newer divers debut extremely difficult dives, making them worthy threats. Geonhak notes that Son Dongju is competing in the solo event, but his brother is not. He has no idea whether Dongmyeong simply didn’t want to participate in this event or whether he didn’t pass the preliminary rounds. He’ll have to ask around, his curiosity suddenly awoken. 

In the third round, a slightly off-form Hwanwoong falters a bit, earning 7s and 7.5s. He climbs out of the pool, shaking his head and laughing a bit to himself, before calling out something to his coach. The degree of difficulty of his attempted dive keeps his total score for the round relatively high.

Son Dongju dives well throughout the competition – not with Hwanwoong’s fireworks, but performing difficult dives consistently, round after round. His ranking creeps up the scoreboard into medal contention.

Hwanwoong recovers well in the fourth and fifth rounds, earning a few of the only 10 point scores awarded in the three-day championships. Ultimately he successfully, convincingly defends his title as Korea’s National Champion in the 10-meter event. Hwanwoong does a happy little dance at the side of the diving well when the final scores go up, and the crowd erupts, cheers and even fanchants echoing in the high-ceilinged aquatic center. 

Son Dongju achieves a silver medal, and Geonhak sees the diver smile for the first time. His face transforms, eyes softening and dimples appearing in his youthful cheeks. Geonhak feels his own face warm just the tiniest bit. If he weren’t a consummate professional, he might… he might think that this irascible young diver could be just his type. Fortunately, of course, Geonhak is a professional. God knows he’s seen plenty of fit, attractive athletes in his line of work, and nothing beyond a journalistic interest has ever before crossed his mind. 

And that’s obviously going to remain the case. 

Geonhak is optimistic about this last round of interviews. Yeo Hwanwoong, the golden boy of Korea’s diving scene, has retained his title – and Son Dongju appears to be in a good mood, which Geonhak previously deemed an impossibility. 

He finds the three medalists. Kim Changseong, the bronze medalist, seems a little checked out, though reasonably happy with his accomplishment. He tells Geonhak that Dive Korea only sends the top two finishers from each discipline (and top one synchro team) to international competitions. Fair enough that he might be a little tempered in his happiness, Geonhak decides. 

He shifts his focus to Son Dongju. Unfortunately, the diver’s face has transformed fully, shifting back to a grumpy, cautious expression. The reporter prays it’s not just him that sparks this animosity in the diver. “Congratulations on your silver medal! Are you happy with your performance today?” 

“Should I not be?” The young diver shakes the water from his hair, and Geonhak tries to control his breathing. 

Geonhak tells the truth. “I thought your dives were all excellent this evening. I think you deserve your medal.”

“But you don’t know anything about it,” says Dongju, before Hwanwoong gives him a playful swat. 

“Aishhh, don’t mind Dongju,” says Hwanwoong, with a laugh. He turns to his teammate. “Be nice to our reporter-nim or I’ll tell the coaches you want extra time in the ice bath tonight.” 

Dongju now stares daggers at the gold medalist. 

“You all have the same coaches?” asks Geonhak. 

Dongju rolls his eyes, but Hwanwoong answers patiently. “Yes, the national team shares coaches and funding. Head coach-nim is Lee Chanjoo.” 

Ah, yes. Geonhak met her yesterday. At the moment, she appears to be huddled with a few other coaches, all wearing Dive Korea polo shirts.

“Actually, I might go see what’s up,” says Hwanwoong, looking in her direction. “I’ll be right back, okay?” 

“I wouldn’t be,” mutters Dongju under his breath. “I’d just leave.” 

Geonhak has just about had enough. “Then why don’t you?” 

“Because I have to talk to you. Even though you reporters are all the same – trying to dig into our personal affairs and create drama where there is none. My brother and I are fine.”

It’s perfect timing for Hwanwoong to bounce happily back, nearly skipping across the wet tile floor. “I got permission to tell you! Coach says my injury has healed enough, and that my training schedule can take it. You’re the first to know, Geonhak-ssi!” 

“Know what?” 

“They’re going to let me compete in both the individual and synchronized events!” 

Geonhak shifts his eyes to Dongju quickly enough to see the diver’s face flare in alarm, before he pulls himself back into a more neutrally sullen expression. 

“I see. Congratulations!” says Geonhak, tearing his focus off Dongju and back to Hwanwoong. “Who will be your diving partner?” 

Hwanwoong looks a little nervous at the question – the first real sign of nerves Geonhak has detected in the petite athlete. 

“We’ll have to talk about it, I guess. But usually they try to match divers by skill level.” He cuts his eyes to Dongju so quickly that Geonhak almost misses it.

 _Ah._

Geonhak figures there’s going to be some fireworks brewing at Dive Korea, fairly shortly. 

It’s funny how quickly he’s becoming invested in these people, Geonhak thinks as he starts his car. It must be the sport itself. 

Definitely not a personal interest in any intriguing, enigmatic divers he’s met over the last few days. 

_Yep._

_____ 

When Geonhak meets his best friend for lunch the next day, all he can talk about is the diving competition. 

“I thought you hated judged sports,” Keonhee finally says, through a mouthful of pizza. 

“I don’t,” huffs Geonhak. “I’m not sure why you’d think that.”

Keonhee raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “Okay, hyung.” 

Geonhak takes a sip of his drink. _Whatever._ It’s not like Keonhee, a music teacher, understands anything about sports writing anyway. When Geonhak was considering becoming a physical education teacher, they’d met in the same graduate degree program; despite superficially similar educational qualifications, their areas of expertise differ wildly.

“But I don’t get it, hyung,” says Keonhee. “Are they gonna pair Hwanwoong with the angry twin?” 

“Dongju. His name is Son Dongju.” 

“Right, sure. Angry twin. So… are they going with that one or the other one?” 

“I don’t know!” says Geonhak, suddenly wishing he’d never brought it up. “I mean, I’ve seen them at exactly one competition. It kinda looked like maybe Dongmyeong has more natural talent, but Dongju is more consistent. In either case, it seems like their main selling point as diving partners is that they can synchronize with each other so well. It’s crazy to break them up as a team, right? Even if Hwanwoong is overall the most skilled diver?” 

Keonhee nods thoughtfully. “I was going to answer that as if I had any idea what to recommend – as if I had any idea what I was talking about. But I don’t. And _neither do you._ ” 

Geonhak sighs. Keonhee is right. 

They spend the rest of lunch talking about Geonhak’s upcoming travel schedule. That part of the temporary assignments, at least, should be fun. It’ll be great to have a nice, calm series of international stays in fancy hotels. 

Geonhak is looking forward to a relaxing break. A working holiday, really. It’ll be wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

Geonhak flops onto the bed in his hotel room in Montreal. God, he’s tired; it’s a long flight from Seoul. He falls asleep immediately, then finds himself awake at 4 o’clock in the morning. Well, somewhat awake, anyway – disoriented and restless, more than anything. He decides he needs fresh air.

Geonhak knows the national diving team has been in the city for a few days already, getting over jet lag and becoming acquainted with the conditions at the competition venue. Montreal Olympic Park’s aquatic center, built for the 1976 Olympics, is playing host to Geonhak’s first stop on the World Series of Diving. 

More than a month has passed since his first diving competition at Korean nationals, and he feels far better informed about all diving-related matters at this point. He’s learned more about the sport itself, as well as Dive Korea, the governing body.

Still, he’s surprised to learn that Korea News Weekly has booked him into the same hotel as the national diving team. He’s even more surprised to learn about the coincidence in the way he does: by stumbling into the hotel elevator – jet-lagged and bleary-eyed – and crashing bodily into Son Dongju. Or Hong Bora, the Korean women’s 3-meter springboard specialist. Well, both, really, as Bora is wrapped into a tight embrace in the arms of her now alarmed-looking teammate. 

They release each other immediately – whether to derail the intrusion into a rather intimate moment or to better brace themselves against the stumbling journalist, he’s not sure. He mutters an apology, which Bora accepts with a slightly nervous, friendly grace. Son Dongju stands silently in the elevator, back against the wall. Their gym bags are on the ground by the divers’ feet, as if to emphasize the distance between them and Geonhak. 

At least he’s mostly awake now, if embarrassed.

None of the three say another word until the elevator is at the ground level. Geonhak exits the elevator, makes his way through the lobby and out the main entrance. He inhales deeply. Despite the Canadian spring chill, or maybe in part because of it, the fresh air lifts Geonhak fully awake. 

As he stands under the porte cochère of the hotel, he watches Son Dongju and Hong Bora hoist themselves and their gym bags into a waiting bus. Once they’ve boarded, the doors close and the bus drives away, presumably shuttling divers to their early morning practice times. 

Geonhak catches himself feeling a little on edge somehow, more than what he expects to feel simply because he accidentally stumbled into two of Korea’s finest athletes. 

The terrible suspicion that he might be a tiny bit disappointed in the thought of Son Dongju having a girlfriend is absurd. It’s patently obvious that the diver hates him, anyway. Why should it matter?

Geonhak takes another deep breath of chilly Montreal air and heads back inside. Already the freshly-awoken feeling is fading; maybe he can get a few more hours of sleep before the competition starts.

The first day of the competition proceeds without any undue hiccups. Geonhak feels a little more confident asking the medalists questions and is grateful for the English and Mandarin Chinese he’s learned over the years. He finishes interviewing the mixed synchronized 3-meter winners – a man and woman from the United Kingdom – and reminds himself to text Seoho. His colleague could do with a gloating reminder that Korea Sports Weekly didn’t have to abandon Seoho’s plans for an extended feature on global diving, after all. Geonhak is doing just fine with the assignment, thank you. Can’t have Seoho getting too smug in his new fatherhood. 

The second day of competition ends with the men’s 10-meter synchronized event. Geonhak sits up a little straighter in his seat; his focus narrows to the task at hand. 

Yeo Hwanwoong and Son Dongju are, as Geonhak had surmised, partnered together. They are last in the dive order, closing out each round of dives. 

It doesn’t take all six rounds of competition, however, to see that their synchronization is off. Both divers complete their dives superbly, but the timing isn’t there, and the judges’ scores reflect the issue. 

Hwanwoong and Dongju eke out a bronze medal finish, and Geonhak sighs as he heads down to interview them, as well as the other medalists. 

Another journalist, a middle-aged man in a lime green bucket hat, has beaten Geonhak to the press interview area, and he stands back to wait his turn.

Still a bit jet-lagged, it takes Geonhak a moment to clock that something is awry. He tunes into the other journalist in time to hear him ask, “So you’re definitely not dating anybody else on the team, Dongju?” The translator hesitates, and the man continues. “Isn’t that kind of thing risky and bad for team morale?”

In two quick paces, Geonhak is in front of the other journalist. “I don’t feel that is an appropriate question to ask an athlete,” he says. The translator’s eyes widen, but she nods curtly in gratitude. 

The middle-aged man stares at them each in turn, thanks them insincerely for their time, and turns on his heel to walk away. 

Hwanwoong’s face is a caricature of distress; Dongju’s expression simmers gradually back down to something closer to what Geonhak has grown to regard as his baseline. A default grumpiness, maybe a permanent misanthropy – a sullenness short of actual anger.

Dongju meets Geonhak’s eyes. “Are you here to ask me about my relationships with my teammates, too?” he asks. “I understand enough of what he said to get the picture. Or are you going to grill me about my brother at this competition, like last time we met?” 

Geonhak recalls that Korea News Weekly has flown him across the globe specifically to get as many in-depth, on-site interviews as possible. He looks at Hwanwoong, who is averting his gaze and looking anywhere except back at him. He then looks at Dongju, spirit and body both clearly exhausted behind those sparkling eyes. 

Geonhak says, “I just wanted to congratulate you on your bronze medal.” He bows slightly, then moves across the floor to wait his turn interviewing the other medalists.

The hotel has a lovely pool. Well, he _thinks_ it’s probably lovely, not that he can really tell. It’s not the first time Geonhak has broken into a pool after hours, swimming in the near-darkness to avoid attracting attention or setting off security cameras, but it’s been a while. 

With each quiet, smooth stroke of his arms through the water, he feels the tension dissipate as a still calmness takes its place. 

He swims length after length of the pool, until he finally decides to take a short break. As he rights himself in the water, he sees the shadowy shape of another person lurking next to the pool – and he screams. 

A hearty, stuttering laugh echoes in the large room. “I had no idea you’d scream like that when startled. You seem like such a big, tough guy.” 

Is that… _Son Dongju’s_ voice?! It’s Korean, anyway.

“Dongju-ssi…?” Geonhak asks, desperately trying to make out the features of the person sitting by the pool – but knowing it’s hopeless in the dark, without his glasses. 

“Let’s drop honorifics, okay?” It’s definitely Dongju’s voice. “If you’re going to be following me around the world and all that. You’re older than I am, anyway, right?” 

Geonhak dips his head briefly below the water, swishing his hair out of his face. “Okay.” 

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Geonhak kicks his feet up and floats in the pool, only bringing his legs back down when he hears Dongju start to speak. “Why didn’t you ask?” 

“Ask what?” 

“Anything. Aren’t you a reporter?” 

“I am.” Geonhak feels emboldened by the darkness. “Maybe I didn’t need to ask you questions to feel I had learned some answers.” 

Dongju makes a guttural noise of disapproval. “You think I’m sleeping with Bora.” 

“I… Well, are you? Since you bring it up and all. I won’t put this in any article.” 

“No,” says Dongju. 

“Then why are you bringing it up?” 

“Because it’s late, and I’m not thinking straight. I don’t know. I don’t have a good answer for you.”

“Fair,” says Geonhak. He thinks for a second. “Look, it’s super weird to be in a body of water, addressing some shadowy figure on land. Are you coming into the pool or am I getting out of it?” 

“I could just leave.” 

Geonhak is glad that the darkness obscures the deepening color of his ears. “Please don’t.” 

Dongju is silent for a moment, then says, “I hate swimming.” 

Geonhak bursts into laughter and moves to the edge of the pool, to climb out. “You what?! You literally make your living in a pool.” 

“Yeah, but I’ve never loved water the way Dongmyeong does. We both got into diving through gymnastics, like a lot of people, actually. It’s just that he loves being _in_ the water.” 

Something about the way Dongju emphasizes the word _in_ piques Geonhak’s interest. “As opposed to what?” 

Dongju is quiet for a while. Geonhak towels himself off and then sits next to Dongju. He’s now able to discern the slight glimmer of the diver’s eyes. He’s not sure how to rephrase his question, but Dongju answers, finally. “Dongmyeong likes being in the water. I like hitting the water.” 

Geonhak is floored by this response. Multiple divers have described the impact of the surface of the water, from a 10-meter dive, as feeling “like concrete.” 

“You like hitting the water?” 

“Reminds me that I’m alive.” Dongju’s breath catches as he inhales, and he stands up abruptly. “See you around, Kim Geonhak of Korea Sports Weekly.” 

“Why’d you come here late at night if you hate swimming?” calls Geonhak to the retreating shadow.

He doesn’t receive a response.

Of the many conflicting thoughts Geonhak has, left sitting alone in the dark, he’s surprised to find that one of them is, _He remembers my name._

_____ 

“I can’t believe Youngjo decided not to send me to Sagamihara!” Geonhak whines. He shifts, trying to find a comfortable spot on Keonhee’s old, sagging sofa. He’s sore from a workout, and the lack of back support isn’t helping. “Instead I’m stuck here this weekend, covering some collegiate track and field event.”

“But you told me yourself you bailed on getting a juicy quote, right after the international debut of Korea’s new synchronized team!” Keonhee’s eyes never leave the television; a young girl has just finished singing on stage. The judges on the show praise her rapturously. 

Geonhak grumbles. “You should have seen them. They were anxious – _so_ anxious. I didn’t want to hurt them any further.” 

“Shut up for a second, hyung. I think my student is next.” 

Both men are quiet. The next singer is introduced: a small boy with a toothy grin and a shock of untamed hair. He holds the microphone with both tiny hands.

“That him?” asks Geonhak. “He’s a cute lil dude.”

“No,” says Keonhee, lowering the volume on the television again. “But where were we? Ah, yes, you being weirdly obsessed with diving, even though you’ve never liked it before.” 

“I am not obsessed!” Geonhak contorts his lower back in another futile attempt at comfort. “I don’t know how your bony ass sits on this sofa without pain. You have no cushioning.” 

“No cushioning? What, me or the sofa?” 

“Neither, apparently.”

“Don’t change the subject, hyung.” Keonhee raises an eyebrow at Geonhak. “What’s really gotten into you, with this diving thing?”

Geonhak feels the tips of his ears get warm. _Oh, no._ “Nothing,” he insists. 

But Keonhee is staring at him now. “Is it one of the divers? Oh my God, do you have a crush?!” He turns off the TV and swivels to face Geonhak. “I can’t believe you were going to hide this from me.” 

“I do not have a crush!” Geonhak points at the TV set. “What about your student?! Kyuhyeon or something, right? You can’t miss his performance!” 

“Whatever; I can watch it on replay later. And now I _know_ you’re lying to me. Just try telling me you’re suddenly a fan of music talent shows, and I’ll tell you exactly what kind of a bullshitter you are.” 

Geonhak opens his mouth to deny the allegation again before realizing, to his own horror, that it’s true: he does have a crush. A crush on an unpredictable, enigmatic, volatile young diver. He closes his mouth again without saying anything. 

Keonhee’s entire face is illuminated; his eyes crinkle at the corners, and he laughs widely, falling back into the ancient sofa cushions. “Hyung, if it’s the cute, short superstar, I’m gonna die.” 

Geonhak groans. Keonhee suddenly sits back up with a gasp. “NO. It’s the twin, isn’t it? The angry twin? Dongjoon?” 

“Dongju,” says Geonhak, burying his face in his hands. “Son Dongju.” 

Keonhee shakes his fists in excitement. “Oh my Gooood. We’re going to get you a hot diver boyfriend.” He pauses, hands dropping to his lap. “He’s not going to hate me, is he? Is he really that unfriendly? He must be super cute.” 

Geonhak can’t take any more. He stands up, reaches for a sofa cushion, and whacks Keonhee on the arm with it. “Stop it! We’re grown adults! He’s just… intriguing, that’s all.” 

Keonhee’s giggles don’t stop, even as he nurses the imaginary bruise where Geonhak’s pillow thumped him. “So here’s the deal,” he says. “Either you tell me everything about him – including showing me lots of pictures, of course – or I kick you out of my apartment and spend the next hour texting you every single thing I find about him on the internet.”

Geonhak hugs the cushion to his chest. He hates to admit it, but… he might be a touch relieved. He hasn’t let himself look up pictures of Dongju, for fear of being creepy. 

But if Keonhee insists… 

By the time Keonhee has gasped appreciatively at dozens of Donju pictures, sitting next to Geonhak at the music teacher’s desktop computer, Geonhak realizes how deep his crush really is. He keeps wanting to tell Keonhee that no, the diver is actually even better-looking in person. His eyes sparkle more, the dimples in his rare smiles are even more charming, his carriage is even more graceful. And that atrocious, endearing laugh… 

Damn. _Damn._

Keonhee finally sits back in his chair, curiosity satisfied. “So when will you next see him, hyung?” 

Geonhak shrugs. “I think the next World Series of Diving stop he’s attending is Rio de Janeiro.” He says “I think” to avoid disclosing an additional truth: he’s memorized the entire international diving competition schedule for the remainder of the calendar year.

Keonhee nods, seemingly lost in thought. 

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” 

Geonhak can almost see gears turning in his friend’s head, but he drops it. He’s a fairly private person, but maybe he’s been too withdrawn lately. 

It’s good to have at least one good, supportive friend.

_____ 

Keonhee has never before seen Geonhak off to the airport, and Geonhak suspects an ulterior motive on his friend’s part for doing so today. Still, he can’t figure out what it might be, so he lets his best friend drive him to Incheon International Airport.

They hug on the curb, and Geonhak rolls his suitcase to the check-in counter. 

The agent asks him the standard slew of check-in questions. Does he have any firearms, explosives, or other hazardous items in his baggage? _No._ Are there any fluids or pressurized items on his person or in his baggage? _No._ Has his suitcase been out of his sight at all, since he packed it? _No._ Not unless he’s counting Keonhee, who kept the suitcase at his apartment all afternoon while Geonhak finished up paperwork in the office.

And that doesn’t count, surely. 

_____ 

Geonhak rolls down a window in his taxi, driving through the streets of Rio de Janeiro, and realizes it’s far warmer than he’d expected. Summer in Korea means winter in Brazil, but apparently “winter” is a relative term. Well, he can change into lightweight trousers and a t-shirt at the hotel.

He checks into the hotel without issues and wheels his suitcase into a small but nicely appointed room. He plops his suitcase onto the small luggage rack and pops it open. 

And then he stares. 

There, instead of the functional, standby articles of clothing he’d so neatly packed before leaving Seoul, he sees an assortment of colorful items – tropical prints, layer upon layer – and even some fuchsia pink sticking out between them. 

He is going to _kill_ Keonhee. 

**Geonhak**   
_What in the everloving fuck were you thinking_

**Keonhee**  
 _I just didn’t want you to seem like a fuddy-duddy, a stick-in-the-mud, an uptight office type, when you’re off to woo a cute boy in a tropical wonderland_

**Geonhak**   
_I’m gonna fucking feed you to a crocodile. I don’t even have time to go to the store on this trip!!_

**Keonhee**  
 _Perfect. You’re welcome! Go get ’im, hyung!_

Geonhak sifts through his options and settles on a deep blue tropical shirt with a toucan print on it. It seems to be the least objectionable of the shirts in his suitcase. 

He’s got one hand on the hotel room door when he suddenly realizes this means he’ll have to wear a different shirt tomorrow – the evening of the 10-meter synchro final… an evening he will almost certainly be interviewing Dongju. 

He rushes back to his suitcase, takes off the toucan shirt, and folds it back neatly. He throws on a neon coral tee with what appears to be a baby chick printed on the front. Random, but okay. 

_____ 

A few of the other journalists give Geonhak a brief up-down. He keeps his back straight and focuses on looking confident, and he makes it through the evening’s competition without anybody mentioning the t-shirt. 

His spirits revived, he decides to have a drink at the hotel’s bar. The space is open to the outdoors; a lovely, refreshing breeze ruffles his hair and the paper napkin under his drink. It’s far less humid than when he arrived, and he settles on his barstool in happiness. 

Geonhak finishes his drink – and another. Not drunk, but perhaps no longer totally sober, Geonhak pays the bartender and decides to take a walk along the famous Rio de Janeiro beachfront.

The water’s certainly too cold for swimming, especially now that the sun has set, but that’s fine. There is no way Geonhak is wearing the tiny purple swimsuit Keonhee packed for him – at least not anywhere beyond his hotel.

Tonight he’s happy to dawdle along the sand, enjoying the sounds of Portuguese and the smell of the saltwater in the air. He meanders along the shoreline of Copacabana Beach, enjoying the feeling of soft sand underfoot. 

Geonhak decides to sit on the beach for a spell, listening to the gentle murmuring hiss of waves lapping the shore. He hopes the exposure to the city’s night skies will help with his jetlag. Still, the beach is well illuminated by city lighting, so he’s not holding his breath. 

His eyes close as he leans back onto his hands, curling his fingers into the sand. He focuses on the feeling of the ocean breeze in his hair, tickling the soft skin behind his ears.

Just when he thinks he’s achieved ultimate relaxation, the spell is broken by a loud, stuttering laugh. A familiar laugh, accompanied by another voice speaking Korean. A laugh that could only belong to one, as Keonhee calls him, angry twin – who at the moment sounds the farthest thing from angry. 

The voices come closer, then abruptly stop. Geonhak tentatively opens first one eye, then another, to see Son Dongju and Hong Bora standing in the sand, staring at him. 

“Nice shirt,” says Dongju, and Bora covers her face in embarrassment. 

Geonhak looks down, momentarily disoriented about what would be so special about the shirt. Ah, yes. A giant cartoon chick on a neon coral tee. Not, admittedly, his usual wardrobe. 

“Thank you,” he says, figuring further explanation would just make things even more awkward. He tries to keep his expression neutral in the face of Dongju’s unswerving, unreadable stare.

Bora looks back and forth between Dongju and Geonhak and finally tells Dongju, “I’m headed back.” 

“Okay,” says Dongju. “We can head back.” 

“No, no.” She shakes her head. “I need some quiet time with my thoughts. I’ll be fine. I speak English, remember? And lots of people here do, too.”

She turns her attention to Geonhak and asks, “Will you walk him home? I worry about him alone in this city; he doesn’t speak Portuguese or English.” 

Dongju gives her a disbelieving glare and starts to mutter something about being an adult, but Geonhak is already assuring Bora he’ll make sure the diver gets back safely. “ – so don’t worry. He’ll be fine. You’re in luck; I basically majored in patience.”

Dongju whips his head to look at Geonhak. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” 

Geonhak suppresses his grin as best he can. “Only, of course, that I will patiently navigate this unfamiliar city to ensure we both get home safely.” 

Dongju purses his lips skeptically, but Geonhak could almost swear he sees the corners of his lips twitching with a suppressed smile of his own.

Geonhak lifts a hand from the sand and then uses it to pat the area of beach next to him. Dongju looks at Bora, who flashes him a quick wave before turning to walk away. 

Dongju sighs dramatically in defeat – then joins Geonhak, sitting on the sand. “I can’t believe she abandoned me to sit with you in the dirt.” 

“It’s not dirt; it’s sand.” Geonhak picks up a fistful of the soft grains of sand, then lets them trickle out from between his fingers. “See? It’s soothing. You should try it.” 

“I’m plenty relaxed,” says Dongju.

Geonhak decides not to mention that he’s rarely ever seen a less relaxed looking person sitting on a beach. “Well, just in case, maybe take a few deep breaths and pull your shoulders away from your ears. You dive tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. And the day after.” The diver makes a visible effort to release the tension in his body. 

Geonhak can’t hide his surprise. “You qualified for the solo 10-meter final?” 

“Don’t act so shocked!” 

“I’m not! Well, I mean, I’m a little surprised, just because you haven’t at the other World Series events this year. You’re right. But I’m happy for you! You’re a great diver.” 

Dongju sighs and starts tracing loopy patterns in the sand. “Really, I only got in because two divers withdrew, I think. I wish Dongmyeong were here. He for sure would have qualified for the solo final.” 

“How is he?” 

Dongju leans back, mirroring Geonhak’s posture. “I think… honestly? I think he’s been better. His diving didn’t worsen from last season. If anything, he’s improved slightly. It’s just that…” He hesitates. 

“Don’t worry,” says Geonhak. “I’m not in journalist mode. You’re off the record.” 

Dongju meets his eyes, then nods. “Okay. So it’s just that we only get a set number of berths per country. And if Hwanwoong wants a spot… Hwanwoong gets a spot. Period. I don’t begrudge him the spot, either. It’s the rest of us that have to duke it out, just for the chance to compete.” 

“Mmm.” Geonhak murmurs his understanding. 

“If they could send three of us here, it’d be ideal – even if my brother and I couldn’t dive together. Because then it’d be me and Hwanwoong competing synchro, and both Hwanwoong and Dongmyeong taking a shot at the solo medals.” 

Geonhak considers this, thoughts still maybe a tiny bit looser from the drinks earlier in the evening. “You mean… Dive Korea would risk his inconsistency in the solo event, but they don’t want him endangering any other divers’ chances in the synchro event?” 

Dongju grins. “Given what a Mister Nice Guy act you put on sometimes, you can be really blunt.” He pauses. “I don’t hate it.” 

_Noted,_ thinks Geonhak. He shifts his arms and lies back in the sand. 

“You’ll get sand in your hair, hyung.” Dongju sucks his breath in audibly, undoubtedly surprised at the _hyung_ slipping out of his mouth. 

“I don’t mind,” says Geonhak. He doesn’t bother clarifying whether he’s talking about the sand or the _hyung._ “You bathe, right?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Dongju laughs. 

“Then try it. Just lean back, close your eyes, and listen to the waves.” 

For several long seconds, Dongju is motionless. Finally, slowly, he lowers his head to the sand. 

“Not bad, huh?” asks Geonhak. 

“Not bad,” says Dongju. 

They lie in the sand, quiet, until the chatter of city nightlife starts to diminish ever so slightly, and the soundscape is filled with the swish of the gently receding tide. 

Geonhak turns his head slightly and sees Dongju’s profile silhouetted in the beach lights. He takes a deep breath to steady his voice before speaking. “We should get you home.” 

“Mm hrm,” Dongju agrees – but doesn’t move. 

Several more minutes pass before Geonhak finally sits upright and shakes the sand from his hair. He extends a hand to help Dongju rise. 

Dongju looks at the hand, then at Geonhak’s face. “Okay,” he finally says. “Okay.” He lets Geonhak pull him to standing. 

They walk back to Dongju’s hotel without speaking. 

Finally, in the lobby, Geonhak says, “Good night, Dongju. See you tomorrow.” 

“I hope so,” says Dongju. “Because then that means I’ve medaled, and you’re interviewing me.” 

“No.” Geonhak shakes his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, regardless.” He smiles, feeling his ears and cheeks warm, and turns to walk to his own hotel. 

He doesn’t hear Dongju move from his spot in the lobby – as if Dongju were rooted in place, watching Geonhak go. 

The image stays with Geonhak all the way back to his own hotel room and its lovely, hot shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I want moqueca.


	3. Chapter 3

Geonhak awakens to see a swath of texts from his colleague. 

**Seoho**  
_Are you free today? Hyungu and I were thinking of bringing the little lady to the office to say hi_

**Seoho**  
_Show her where her Papa works, teach her how to sharpen pencils, introduce her to Papa’s nemesis_

**Seoho**  
_(that’s you)_

**Seoho**  
_Was that too much? Sorry…_

**Seoho**  
_Okay, never mind. Youngjo just told me you’re in Rio de Janeiro, so I guess it’s probably safe to say you’re asleep right now_

**Seoho**  
_On this occasion and this occasion only will I accept your excuse for not meeting Haneul_

**Seoho**  
_You’ll love her! I know I’m biased, but this country has never produced a cuter child_

**Seoho**  
_I do have to warn you she’ll probably take my side in any office disputes. She just smiled and blew a spit bubble when I asked her whether Papa would win in a cage match against that jock Geonhak who usually covers swimming, track, and field_

**Seoho**  
_Anyway, hope you’re having fun in Rio! I know you said you were doing okay with the diving thing but honestly I’m surprised you stuck with it_

**Seoho**  
_That one twin can be a real piece of work_

**Seoho**  
_Take care, and I’ll see you soon!_

Geonhak texts back a quick hello and sends his love to Seoho’s family. His first instinct is to follow this with an indignant defense of Dongju, but… what’s he going to say? “Actually, he’s not so grouchy – in the right circumstances, with the right people.” Would that suggest Geonhak himself is “the right people?” 

… _Is_ he the right people?

He tries several versions of the text, then deletes it entirely, leaving only the friendly greetings.

Geonhak remembers to wear the dark blue toucan shirt to the second day of competition, although at this point he’s feeling strangely warm toward the baby chick-print tee. 

He watches the 10-meter men’s synchro warmup with a sinking feeling. Even Hwanwoong’s face looks unusually tense. Dongju’s expression is blank – almost bored looking, although Geonhak suspects it’s a front to disguise his nerves. His body language is stiff, and the resulting dives are equally unimpressive. 

Geonhak hopes that maybe the Korean duo just needed to get their nerves out before competition, but they fall behind in the rankings almost immediately. Instead of recovering ground, each successive round ratchets the issues a notch higher. The mistakes they make are no longer confined to synchronization; Hwanwoong over-rotates a somersault, and Dongju struggles to enter the water at a perfect vertical.

Yeo Hwanwoong and Son Dongju’s final score lands them in second-to-last place. 

As soon as the final dive has been scored, Geonhak jumps from his seat and sprints through the venue – not toward the medalists he’s supposed to be interviewing, but instead toward the shuttle bus he knows is in a back corner of the parking lot. Sure enough, Hwanwoong and Dongju exit a back door of the aquatic center, lugging their gym bags toward the bus.

“Dongju!” he shouts – closing the last few meters as fast as he can, wishing he did a little less weight-lifting and a little more cardio exercise. 

Hwanwoong and Dongju both stop and look at him. Dongju’s face is stony, and Hwanwoong mostly looks confused. 

“… and Hwanwoong-ssi!” he adds, weakly. 

Dongju’s small smile looks more like a grimace. “Yes?” asks Hwanwoong. 

Now that he’s here, Geonhak feels lost for words. He finally clears his throat and says, “I just wanted you both to know I didn’t fly all the way out here to only support you when you’re medaling. What you do is incredible, and I hope you get some rest tonight. Thank you for working hard to represent Korea.” 

Hwanwoong looks a little stunned. “Thank you,” he says. 

Dongju, on the other hand, says, “Always the hero, right?” He pauses, then adds, “Well, you’ve seen me, like you said,” before turning at a sharp angle and stepping onboard the bus. 

Hwanwoong’s eyes follow Dongju, then cut back to Geonhak. “I don’t know what that was about, but… sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” says Geonhak. “And neither does he.” 

The short diver nods slowly, then steps onto the bus behind his teammate. 

Geonhak takes a deep breath, then jogs back inside the venue, knowing he’ll be last in line to interview the medalists. 

The third and final day of competition, Geonhak gives up trying to look respectable. He throws on a purple shirt with a pineapple print. It’s not like he stands a chance with Son Dongju anyway; the diver clearly despises him and tolerated him only to give Bora a chance to get some alone time. 

He shifts in his seat in the stands, watching the men warm up for the 10-meter solo event. Both Korean divers look substantially less tense than the day before, and as soon as the competition starts, Geonhak knows the audience is in for a treat. 

Son Dongju – not even predicted to make it to the solo finals – starts posting impressive enough scores to bring a murmur from the audience. There’s a collective gasp when the spectators realize Dongju has earned a bronze medal in the event.

Yeo Hwanwoong is on fire. From the first round, his dives are smooth, graceful, and well-controlled. Although the heavy favorite and reigning World Champion, Wei Quan of China, takes the gold medal, Hwanwoong comes in a very close second place. 

Geonhak can’t keep himself from grinning. “How do you feel about how you did tonight?” he asks Hwanwoong and Dongju. 

Dongju, face alight with happiness – dimples pronounced, gummy smile at full wattage – laughs and shakes his head. “No, hyung,” he says, ignoring Hwanwoong’s widened eyes at the term, “That’s a terrible question to ask. When’s your flight tomorrow?” 

Geonhak isn’t sure where this is going. “7 in the evening. Why?” 

“Great, I can keep you out late tonight. We need to teach you about diving, so you can stop talking like a sportswriter who happens to cover diving, and start sounding like a diving fan who knows how to write.” 

Geonhak just smiles at Dongju – then is reminded of Hwanwoong’s presence by a small voice saying, “I thought… I thought I did well, tonight.” 

The journalist feels his face warm and quickly faces Hwanwoong. “Of course! An absolutely stellar job! Well done on the silver medal.” 

Hwanwoong graciously sticks to a very professional – if short – interview, while Dongju smirks beside him. 

Once Geonhak has thanked Hwanwoong for his time, the silver medalist goes to speak to another reporter – but not before giving Dongju a long, side-eyed look. 

Dongju turns to Geonhak. “I’m going to need to shower. Meet me in an hour; you know where to find my hotel.” He follows Hwanwoong to speak to the other waiting journalists.

Geonhak forgets to interview the gold medalist. 

_____ 

“You know,” says Dongju, when he sees Geonhak in the lobby, “It only occurs to me now that you might want to grab a late-night bite to eat. I can’t – competition season, you know – but I’m happy to tag along if you want to get something somewhere.” 

“I’ll be alright,” says Geonhak. “I grabbed food in the break before the 10-meter final.” 

Dongju nods. “I discovered the hotel’s rooftop deck last night. It’s a warm evening… Want to check it out? We can grab some bottles of water or something from the front desk. Maybe not exciting, but… yeah, competition season.” 

Geonhak smiles. “It’s fine. That sounds perfect, actually.”

The deck is warm and welcoming, open to the gentle night breezes and strung with fairy lights. Potted plants dot the deck between surprisingly cozy outdoor seating areas. 

They find a comfortable sofa overlooking the city and settle in with their chilled bottles of water. The view is spectacular: glittering city lights – and beyond them, an improbably tall, dome-shaped mountain, right on the coastline.

Dongju is the first to speak. “Okay. Lesson One: The ripped entry.” 

Geonhak bursts into laughter. “Really? You’re not going to ask me how my day was or anything? Straight into schoolwork. Okay. I guess you’re the teacher.” 

Dongju jabs him in the side with surprising force. “Then don’t interrupt.”

Geonhak’s concentration nearly combusts from the unexpected physical contact, but he manages to keep his response to a yelp and a giggle. 

Dongju’s smirk returns. “Besides, I know how your day was. You saw Koreans blow away the competition, against the odds. Except for Wei Quan, but he’s basically not even a human, he’s so good.” 

Geonhak laughs. “So sorry. Do continue, teacher-nim,” he says, grinning as he unscrews the lid to his water bottle.

“Like I was saying,” says Dongju. “The ripped entry. It’s when we enter the water and try to drag down as much air as we can, to avoid bubbles or splash. We use our hands and arms – as well as piking our body to create suction, to drag down any air. Do you know what piking is?” 

“Bending your body at the hips or waist, kind of?”

Dongju nods. “Close enough. It puts an incredible amount of pressure on a human body, since we hit the water at speeds of about 50 kilometers an hour. Immediately under the surface of that graceful looking entry into the water, it feels like we’re being pulled apart.” 

True to his word, Dongju spends the next hour teaching Geonhak as much as he possibly can about diving, from the way a diver’s feet shouldn’t separate in the air to the fact that divers get almost no cardiovascular exercise apart from repeatedly climbing the many steps to the top of the platform. 

Geonhak is the one with the education degree, but he enjoys every second as a student, settled alongside Dongju on this rooftop deck. He tries to memorize not only the things the diver is telling him but also the way his surprisingly soothing voice floats into the warm tropical air, occasionally punctuating his comments with wry giggles or an almost baby-voiced whisper.

Of all the qualities Geonhak might have guessed of Son Dongju when he first met the man, having a great voice for speaking late into the night was not one of his expectations. 

Geonhak loves it. It might be the very last night of the World Series of Diving, with only the World Championship itself to go, in this season, but he finally feels like he’s on a working holiday. 

The desire to kiss Dongju nearly overwhelms him. When he gets back to his own hotel, he realizes there are tooth marks all over the top of his water bottle, from where he’d bitten into that, instead. 

_____ 

“But you didn’t… you didn’t get his number?” The disbelief written across Keonhee’s face is immense. 

“No, I didn’t. I’m a journalist, Keonhee! Wouldn’t he think I’m a creep?”

“He _invited you to his hotel’s rooftop deck, late at night._ ” 

Geonhak frowns into his smoothie. “Because he was tired of my dumb interview questions, that’s all. He was educating me.” 

Keonhee runs a hand through his hair. “Hyung, I don’t want to be mean about this, but… Wow. I’m really trying to think of a nice way to tell you how dumb you are, and I can’t think of anything.” 

Geonhak groans. “You really think I should have? Well, what do I do now?” 

Keonhee takes a sip of his own, purple smoothie. “When’s Worlds?” 

“About three weeks.” 

Keonhee shrugs. “Get your boss to keep you busy so your sexual frustration doesn’t drive you insane until then, or something, I guess. I dunno.” 

Geonhak makes a face. “I don’t just wanna bone him!” 

Keonhee raises an eyebrow. “I heard the ‘just,’ hyung.” 

“And even then, I hardly think the World Championships would be the time to distract him from his job by coming onto him, right? Besides, it’s not technically prohibited, but sportswriters dating athletes is kind of frowned upon, you know?” 

Keonhee looks skeptical. “From what you’ve told me about your boss, I hardly think he’d care. And you’ve never been the type to worry about peer pressure. Don’t start now.” 

“Yeah,” Geonhak muses. “Youngjo is pretty liberal in matters of the heart. I mean, him being openly bi is probably at least part of the reason he has an unusual number of gay staffers who feel comfortable working there.”

“Including you.” 

“Obviously.” 

“Right,” says Keonhee, looking exasperated. “So he’d probably support you, right? Anyway. Hang in there until Worlds, hyung. Your cute diverboy will probably be over the moon, so happy to see you.” 

Geonhak hopes he’s right, but he’s not counting on anything. 

_____ 

Somewhere across Siberia, airplane halfway to London, Geonhak realizes he left the chick t-shirt in Korea. 

He shouldn’t mind… but he does. 

_____ 

The first Korean diver to medal at the World Championships in London is Hong Bora, who takes a bronze medal at the 3-meter springboard women’s event. 

“Your air positions were fantastic,” Geonhak tells her. “Especially that third round dive! Do you think adding that new dive to your repertoire, with the extra twist, was what pushed you into the medal position?” 

Bora’s attention seems a little scattered during the interview. Her vision isn’t focused on Geonhak, and she appears to be searching for something or someone behind him. Finally, her eyes catch on something, and her shoulders relax. She looks back at Geonhak. “I’m sorry, what was that?” she asks. 

Geonhak represses a sigh. “How do you feel about how you did today?” he asks. 

“Oh,” says Bora. “Fine. I mean, no – I’m very, very happy to have a medal. It’s an honor, and I thank Dive Korea and the Korean public for their support. I’m sorry, if you’d excuse me…”

She walks past Geonhak and toward a huddle of Korean teammates in the back of the venue. Geonhak sees her walk up to Dongju and put her head on his chest. The twin wraps his arms around her and puts his chin on top of her head. He looks to be whispering something to her, also. Dongju hasn’t clocked Geonhak’s presence, and the reporter doesn’t want to interrupt, although his curiosity rages. 

Geonhak turns away quietly, to interview the other medalists. 

In the hustle and bustle of the World Championship schedule, Geonhak doesn’t see Dongju again until the men’s synchronized 10-meter platform final. 

Dongju and Hwanwoong have tightened their synchronization from the last time Geonhak saw them – the disastrous appearance in Rio de Janeiro – but they fail to medal, and Geonhak is too swept up in other reporting duties to find Dongju immediately after the event. 

It’s in the press and staff cafeteria that he overhears it: an English reporter telling another how surprised he is that two Korean men have qualified for the solo 10-meter platform final. 

He races to the press area and looks at the posted semifinal results; sure enough, both Yeo Hwanwoong and Son Dongju are on the start list for the final.

It’s then that Geonhak wishes, really and truly, that he had Dongju’s number – so that he could text him congratulations and good luck. 

No grand miracles sweep Dongju into a medal position at the final, but he does a reasonable job controlling his nerves and manages a very respectable 7th place. Not bad for a World Championship, Geonhak thinks. 

But the real story of the 10-meter men’s final is also close to home: defying every bookie’s betting odds, Yeo Hwanwoong defeats the previously unassailable Wei Quan to take home his very first Worlds gold medal. 

The interviews for the individual platform events are held in press conference style. The three medalists sit behind a table, and in the front row of the media seating, Geonhak’s eyes land on a lime green bucket hat. 

Geonhak decides to sit right next to this man… just in case. 

Sure enough, when the moderator calls on the reporter in the lime green hat, he stands up and asks Hwanwoong, “Do you feel like your win here today will inspire other athletes with physical disabilities such as diminished height?” 

Before Geonhak can decide whether to throttle the journalist or not, the interpreter has translated the question to Hwanwoong. 

Hwanwoong answers in Korean, “Athletes of all physical ability and disability levels have a lot to learn from each other. I do feel my height is an asset, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.” 

Geonhak is stunned and tunes out the interpreter’s translation back into English. He raises both thumbs up and flashes them at Hwanwoong, who grins like a little boy on his birthday. 

After the reporters are dismissed from the room, Hwanwoong lopes out from around the table and stops Geonhak. 

“Geonhak-ssi,” he says. “Maybe this is forward, but… do you want to join me and a few others on the team for dinner? It’s the end of the season. We’re all looking forward to eating as many calories as possible!” 

Geonhak doesn’t even have to think about it. “I’d love that. Count me in!” 

First, however, he texts Youngjo. His boss is a well-connected man, and Youngjo’s media magnate friend Dongheon is very, _very_ well-connected in the industry. 

A few texts later, Geonhak is confident that the lime green bucket hat man will never be allowed inside a diving competition again. 

He can’t keep the smile off his face as he gets ready for dinner. 

Geonhak meets most of Team Korea at a pub. When the group moves from the bar, pints of ale in hand, to sit down at a table… it almost feels as though a few of the divers intentionally arrange the seating so that Geonhak will be seated directly across from Dongju. 

It must be his imagination. 

At any rate, the evening is fun, festive, and jubilant. None of the divers hold back on eating lovely, large servings of fish ‘n’ chips. 

Dongju’s laugh is at full, stuttering volume, and Geonhak finds his focus narrowing to the young man across the table from him.

Dongju and Geonhak talk more and more between themselves. When Dongju accidentally spills the remainder of a glass of water on the table, the rest of his teammates barely look in his direction before leaving the two back to their own conversation again. 

Geonhak realizes belatedly that the rest of the team has left, and only he and Dongju remain at their large table in the pub. They finally stand up and exit the restaurant, finding themselves standing in a light London rain. 

“Damn,” Geonhak tells Dongju. “I hope my phone can handle getting wet.” 

“There’s a taxi stand right here, hyung,” says Dongju, pointing at the corner of the block. “It’s not going to get wet in between here and the taxi, if you keep it in your back pocket.” 

“But then how do I get your number?” asks Geonhak. 

Dongju blinks for a second, then grins. “We share a taxi, obviously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to have a better mental image of what all this diving looks like, and you don't want to trawl through hundreds of hours of footage to figure it all out, never fear! I've picked a few videos and timestamped them for your convenience.
> 
> The slow-mo replays are useful, since it all happens so fast.
> 
> 1\. One of the most impressive feats of diving I've ever seen. This dive is difficult enough that few divers try it individually. Doing it _synchronized?_ And then doing it so well?! I present China's [Chen Aisen and Lin Yue](https://youtu.be/th79ucM5MA8?t=3301), performing a Synchronized 4.5 Somersault, Rio - 2016 Olympics. 
> 
> 2\. Here, the absolutely wonderful Tom Daley demonstrates an excellent handstand dive. Check out the steadiness and control! Great Britain's [Tom Daley](https://youtu.be/Y4ARBzok9aU?t=2590), performing an Armstand Back Triple Somersault, London - 2012 Olympics. 
> 
> 3\. Hong Bora is a 3-meter springboard specialist. Performing clean-looking dives off a springboard can be trickier than off a platform, because the divers have to deal with the action of the board itself, flinging them around - besides which, they've got less airspace before they hit the water. Here, Canada's Jennifer Abel of accomplishes a pristine, ripped entry from 3 meters. [Jennifer Abel](https://youtu.be/ADu49BUf360?t=1100), performing Forward 3.5 Somersaults, Montreal - 2019 World Series of Diving. 
> 
> BUT WAIT
> 
> 4\. It occurs to me that none of the above feature twists - and you deserve to see twists! Let's watch one of the women accomplish this, off the 10-m platform. Enjoy: China's [Hu Yadan](https://youtu.be/QhXToslnPvA?t=3535), performing a Back 2.5 Somersault with 1.5 Twists, London - 2012 Olympics.


	4. Chapter 4

Geonhak and Dongju are seated in the back of the taxi, safely out of the rain, before Geonhak thinks to clarify an important detail. “Where are you staying? What am I telling this driver?” 

“You’re not telling him where I’m staying at all, hyung. Not unless you want an entire national diving team’s eyes on you walking through our lobby. Coming or going.” 

Fighting the rising warmth in his ears, Geonhak leans forward to give the taxi driver the address of his own hotel – and feels the unmistakable sensation of a hand on his ass. 

Before he can form words from his surprised splutter, Dongju removes his hand – now holding the phone he slid from Geonhak’s back pocket. He frowns at the screen and then holds the phone to the reporter. “Unlock this, please.” 

Geonhak feels one corner of his mouth rising, despite himself, and he wordlessly unlocks his phone, then hands it back to Dongju. 

The young diver taps in his contact information, then hands the phone calmly back to Geonhak. 

Geonhak doesn’t trust himself to say anything, so they ride the rest of the trip in silence. Dongju mostly looks out the window of the car into the dark London rain. Geonhak mostly looks at Dongju. 

As they walk through the hotel lobby, Dongju takes Geonhak’s hand in his own and pulls him in closer. Dongju’s walking pace doesn’t slow at all as he whispers in Geonhak’s ear, “I’m not fucking you tonight, hyung.” 

Geonhak feels his face burning. He simply says, “Okay.” Dongju relaxes the distance between them – but doesn’t let go of his hand, either. 

In the elevator, Geonhak’s free hand – acting almost outside of his command – reaches up toward Dongju’s face, his fingertips resting on the diver’s surprisingly plush cheeks, given his lean frame. The diver’s eyes flutter closed, and Geonhak realizes for the first time just how long his lashes are.

He finally has to release Dongju’s hand to extract his hotel room key and slide it into the magnetic lock. “After you.” He sweeps his arm into the room, allowing Dongju to enter first. 

The door has barely closed behind them when Dongju grabs Geonhak’s hand again. This time, however, he brings it immediately to his mouth – and bites down, hard. 

Geonhak can’t contain his yelp of pain and surprise. “What was that for?!” he manages, shaking his hand loose. 

“Making Hwanwoong ask you to dinner with us instead of just asking me out yourself.” Dongju looks fairly satisfied with himself. 

Geonhak feels adrenaline rising through his veins. 

He grabs Dongju’s shoulders and presses Dongju forcefully against the hotel room wall. In an instant, his lips are on Dongju’s. He kisses the diver ferociously, lips and teeth and tongue in a heated confusion of sensations. It’s a maelstrom of a kiss – anything but sweet or tender. A distant part of his mind clocks that Dongju is returning the kiss with equal ferocity. A hint of the metallic taste of blood – he’s not sure whose – is on their lips. The metal frame of Geonhak’s glasses is sharp against his nose, and he opens his eyes slightly to notice the lenses fogging up. Geonhak’s chest and throat surge with a cocktail of feelings he can barely name as he continues to press Dongju harder, ever harder, against the wall. 

Speaking of harder… _fuck._

Geonhak breaks free of the kiss and drops his hands from Dongju’s shoulders. His glasses clear to reveal Dongju still standing flat against the wall, as if paralyzed or stunned. His pupils are blown and his mouth is slightly agape, flushed and shiny.

As Geonhak takes two steps back, he runs a hand through his hair. His voice catches in a low, shivering laugh. “Fuck, Dongju, I really did just want your number.” 

“Do you want me to go?” asks Dongju. “Now that you have it.” His forehead is visibly damp, hair curling slightly against his temples.

Geonhak forces himself to really consider the question, trying to still his breathing. 

He shakes his head. “No. I would rather spend tonight with you than without you.” 

Dongju’s eyes widen, and his lashes flutter – a small, delicate note of surprise on an otherwise unmoved face. “Geonhak-hyung,” he finally says. 

“Yeah?” 

“If we stay in this room too much longer, I’m going to change my mind about fucking you.” 

Geonhak laughs. 

“Don’t laugh!” Dongju reaches out a hand to swat at Geonhak, but the reporter dodges before he can make contact. 

“Okay,” says Geonhak. “Let’s go.” He extends a palm toward Dongju, who just looks at his hand. “We’re not going far. Trust me?” 

Dongju looks up from Geonhak’s hand to his face. He ignores the hand, presses a soft kiss against Geonhak’s lips, and walks to the door. “Okay. I trust you.” 

“We can come back,” says Geonhak, as he joins Dongju at the door. “But let’s cool off first.” 

This hotel’s pool is much smaller than the one in Montreal. Not that it matters; Geonhak and Dongju have rolled up their trouser legs and are merely dangling their feet in the warm saline water. The diver leans his head against Geonhak’s shoulder.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to indoor saltwater pools,” says Dongju. “Without the smell of chlorine, it’s basically just bathwater to me.” 

“I know what you mean,” agrees Geonhak. “Have I told you I used to swim competitively? Not at your level – not internationally, I mean. But I spent many years in pools.”

“You didn’t mention it, but it’s pretty obvious, hyung.” 

“What? How?”

“Your general build. Your fluidity in the water. The way you handle yourself walking on wet tile by the diving well. I’m not a moron just because I’m a professional athlete.” 

“I don’t know if I gave you the impression that I thought you were – but if I did, it’s a mistaken one.” 

Dongju sighs. He takes his feet out of the pool, shakes them mostly dry, and then shifts so that his head is in Geonhak’s lap. He takes Geonhak’s hand and starts massaging the palm slowly. “I’m kind of used to… umm. A lot of reporters are… different from you.” 

Geonhak can’t resist. “You don’t threaten them all that you’re going to fuck them in their hotel rooms?” 

Dongju immediately bites the hand he’s holding, and Geonhak nearly pushes him into the pool in surprise. “Yah! You’ve already bitten that hand! Fucking hell.” 

“Sorry.” But Dongju doesn’t look sorry at all. He looks smug and peaceful, head still nestled on Geonhak’s lap. 

Geonhak takes his uninjured hand, hesitates for a moment, and then rakes his fingers delicately through Dongju’s hair. It’s far softer than Geonhak had anticipated, a light silken froth under his fingertips. He and Dongju inhale in surprise at the same time. 

Dongju closes his eyes in happiness. Those lashes… 

Just when Geonhak thinks they might have another silent, waterside communion, like the night on the beach in Brazil, Dongju opens his eyes and asks, “Do you mind if I tell you something you might not like to hear?” 

Geonhak continues softly carding his hand through the diver’s hair. “Okay.” 

“I’m not trying to be judgmental.” 

“Understood,” says Geonhak.

“I know you think you’re this very honorable hero, kind of, and you really are a nice person, from what I can tell. But you’re not all that different from the other reporters in some ways, either.” 

The past few hours have been enough of an inner roller-coaster; this allegation barely shifts Geonhak’s emotional state. But he _is_ curious. “Alright. You want to tell me about it? Like, in what ways?” 

“Well…” Dongju hesitates slightly. “I’m not saying you, Kim Geonhak, are sexist. But your reporting sometimes is.” 

This isn’t what Geonhak had expected at all. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, everybody – including you – acts like the men’s final of the 10-meter event is the only one that counts. It’s always the last event, as if everything else were leading up to it. It gets the most press coverage, and in a less popular sport like ours, where finding a sponsor is already a battle, this difference has real, financial consequences for the women putting their bodies on the line every day, just like us.” 

Geonhak breathes in and out, considering. He can’t deny what Dongju is telling him. 

“I hear what you’re saying. I need to take some time to think about it, but what you’re saying makes sense.” 

Dongju just hums his acknowledgment of the reporter’s statement. 

Geonhak clears his throat before continuing. “Is there anything else?” 

“Well, this isn’t… this isn’t exactly the same topic, but I think I wanted to clarify something. Since we’re here in this non-judgment zone or whatever. Off the record.” 

“Off the record,” Geonhak confirms, as he continues playing with Dongju’s silky hair. 

“It’s about Bora. She isn’t always…” Dongju pauses, clearly measuring his words. “Um, okay. So… we’re both twins.” 

“Really?!” Geonhak’s hand stops short. “That’s crazy!” 

“Yeah. She’s an identical twin, though. I’m sure you’ve gathered Dongmyeong and I are not.” 

“Mm-hrm.” 

Dongju sighs. “When we were little, we were in gymnastics together. I mean, like, when we were _really_ little – before they split up the boys and girls. Our mothers basically decided it was fate: one mother with a set of twin boys, the other with twin girls. All of them talented in gymnastics.” 

“They thought you’d end up together.” 

“Right.” Dongju shifts in Geonhak’s lap, snuggling in tighter. “Clearly that wasn’t going to happen.” 

“Not for anybody…?” 

“Yeah, my brother’s gay too, if that’s what you’re asking. Myeongie’s had a steady boyfriend for years. An idol in the music industry, actually, not that I’m supposed to talk about it.” 

Geonhak’s head is spinning. “So it sounds like… you two both have good reasons to keep journalists at arms’ length.” 

“Yeah.” 

They’re both quiet in the dark. Geonhak bends down and kisses Dongju’s hair.

Dongju speaks again. “The worst part is that… Bomin – Bora’s twin? She never was interested in either of us anyway. She’s actually still a gymnast – a very good one. I guess that’s irrelevant. But anyway, Bora on the other hand…” He trails off, but Geonhak doesn’t interrupt, so Dongju eventually continues. “She told me she was in love with me, years ago. I came out to her, then. She’s known for a long time that a relationship is just not going to happen.” He sighs, frustrated. “I don’t even think she’d have any interest in me if it weren’t for the damn twin thing. She bought into her mother’s mystical red thread of destiny or whatever bullshit.” He doesn’t say that Bora is still in love, but the implication is clear.

Geonhak risks an interjection. “And now… since you’re both in the same, tight-knit national team, traveling together, training together… she can’t see things from an outside perspective?” 

“I wouldn’t have thought to put it like that, hyung, but… yeah. She can’t see things from an outside perspective. She never brought it up again, just to be clear.” Dongju pauses. “You know, wanting to be with me. Bora hopes I don’t know, I think. She really does try to keep her feelings to herself, which sometimes just makes me feel even worse about it. And when she struggles, mentally or emotionally… I feel like supporting her is the least I can do.” 

Geonhak drapes an arm over Dongju’s upper body. “Thank you for telling me.” 

Dongju murmurs wordlessly and pulls Geonhak’s arm closer. 

Even Geonhak is a little tired of sitting by the pool by this point. “Come on, let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep here and we both accidentally tumble into this giant tub of bathwater.” 

Dongju, eyes heavy, agrees. 

Geonhak lends the diver his toiletries, to get ready for bed. Dongju is in bed first, looking surprisingly angelic with his hair splayed out on the pure white pillowcase. 

“Hey, Ju-yah?” asks Geonhak as he climbs under the covers. 

“Mmrmmm?” 

“Are you rooming with anyone at your hotel? Did you tell people where you are? I should have asked this hours ago.” 

“I’m rooming with one of the coaches.” Dongju’s eyes open, and Geonhak sees a mischievous glimmer return to his sleepy face. “I texted him not to wait up for me. I’m probably in huge trouble, but there’s only so much they can do. It’s official now; I’m the 7th best diver in the world.” 

Geonhak hopes his laugh isn’t loud enough to disturb sleeping guests in the neighboring hotel room. 

The goodnight kiss he gives Dongju is the sweetest kiss he’s had in a long time – soft, gentle, and kind. His stomach plummets, but his exhaustion pulls him asleep quickly and deeply.

He awakens to an empty bed and a sense of longing. He has a message alert on his phone. 

**Dongju the Diver**  
_See you in Seoul!_

Geonhak doesn’t hesitate. 

**Geonhak**  
_See you in Seoul, Dongju the Diver._

_____ 

Seoho brings his daughter by the office, along with her other daddy.

Baby Haneul is cuter than Geonhak could ever have imagined. Her fathers look at her with even more love than they look at each other, and at one point Geonhak excuses himself to dab at his eyes in the men’s room. 

Allergies, of course. 

Hyangsook, the lifestyle editor at Korea News Weekly, takes pictures for the company’s social media accounts. Before Geonhak can say anything, Haneul – chubby-cheeked, button-nosed Haneul – is in his arms, and he’s being asked to smile for the cameras. She makes eye contact with Geonhak and smiles a gummy, spit-covered smile.

He might actually explode. 

Bet Youngjo’s insurance policy wouldn’t cover _that._

_____ 

**Keonhee**  
_Are you bailing on our plans because of cute diverboy? That is the only excuse I’m willing to hear right now._

**Geonhak**  
_He invited me to a gymnastics meet, to see his old friend compete_

**Keonhee**  
_Are you serious???? Okay, pardon granted. But still, you sports people… don’t you ever give it a rest? Do artsy things? See operas? There’s a Puccini revival happening right now_

**Geonhak**  
_Ummm… I’ll take that into consideration_

**Keonhee**  
_Yeah, yeah. Have fun! Hope kissing him in Korea is as much fun as it was in London_

**Geonhak**  
_I’m not dignifying that with a response_

**Keonhee**  
_Fighting!!_

**Geonhak**  
_OMG, enough, Keonhee-yah_

**Geonhak**  
_But also, thanks_

_____ 

Whereas diving scores seemed pretty simple to Geonhak after only a short period of time, gymnastics scoring seems totally bonkers. 

Nevertheless, he has fun cheering on Hong Bomin as she sails through the air on uneven bars and tumbles energetically across the floor, accompanied by energetic, orchestral music.

He’s never seen Bora look so relaxed. The break from competition season has transformed her entirely, the worried crease between her brows almost invisible, now.

She and Dongju are clearly close, yet Geonhak finds himself unaffected by any kind of jealousy. There’s no trace of romantic or sexual energy from Dongju whatsoever. It’s only as they’re saying their goodbyes from her that Geonhak thinks he detects a flash of bittersweet feeling cross Bora’s face – and it’s gone before he can be sure he ever saw it.

Geonhak and Dongju leave the gymnastics venue and head to dinner. Halfway through his malatang, Geonhak realizes he’s on a date. A real, honest-to-goodness date.

“You’re making a really weird face, hyung.” 

“This is just what my face looks like, Dongju.” 

“Whatever. If you can’t handle spicy food, you shouldn’t have said yes to malatang.” 

Geonhak nearly kisses him right then and there, in the restaurant, just to wipe the smirk off his face.

Geonhak walks Dongju home, and the diver kisses him on the doorstep of his apartment building, uncaring who might see. 

He doesn’t invite the reporter inside, and Geonhak finds himself completely fine with that. Every moment of unraveling Dongju’s personality is its own small adventure. 

_____ 

Geonhak’s unsure what kind of a surprise Dongju has in mind. The only clue given was to meet him at a specific location – and to bring a swimsuit. 

His primary guess is a tour of Dongju’s training grounds, and he’s half right. The aquatic center complex is large, impressive, and slightly mazelike on the inside.

Once Geonhak has finished admiring all of the center’s dry gym areas and strength training equipment, Dongju takes him to the diving well.

“I know you can dive into a pool,” says Dongju. “Former competitive swimmer, as you so proudly told me.” 

Geonhak is suddenly embarrassed; nothing he ever experienced comes close to the level of athletic rigor and accomplishment of the young man standing before him. But… yeah, he can dive into a pool, in a sort of basic sense. 

“If you’re asking whether I can dive in, just, like, from a normal diving board or a starting block… then yeah, sure.” 

“Time to try the 3-meter springboard!” says Dongju, eyes sparkling. 

It turns out that beginning a dive at 3 meters up from the ground is a big, _big_ change from diving off a starting block at a swim meet. Dongju shows him how to adjust the bounciness of the springboard using the wheel on the side, but Geonhak’s not sure these small tweaks can help his performance all that much. The whole experience is overwhelming. Still, Geonhak successfully dives in from the 3-meter springboard a few times. By his last attempt, he feels exhilaration fluttering through his bloodstream. Sure, it’s terrifying, but he mostly holds it together. Until…

“Okay, it would be unsafe to ask you to dive off it. I don’t want to kill Korea Sports Weekly’s finest. But… I think it’s time to take you all the way up.”

Geonhak freezes. Surely not. _NO._

Dongju laughs. “Your face! Oh my God, your face.” He shakes his head once, decisively. “Nope, it’s happening. Listen, if you want, we can have you jump off the 5-meter and 7.5-meter platforms first, to sort of work your way up. You’ll be jumping feet-first, at any rate. But honestly… I think we should just take you straight up to 10 meters, before you work yourself into an unsafe level of panic. You’re a big, strong, brave man, right?”

Geonhak hardly feels he can decline, though every small step he takes up the platform tower feels like he’s leaving his heart that much further below him, on the ground. 

The view from the top of the 10-meter platform is unlike anything Geonhak has ever experienced in his life. “Those people look like insects!” he exclaims, pointing at a group of swimmers warming up in the other pool. “How often do you do this?!” 

“In busy season? I might climb up here 70 times in a training session.” Dongju grins.

“Holy shit.” Geonhak’s voice comes out in a whisper. 

“Funnily enough, Dongmyeong used to be scared of heights. But he kinda had to get over it, you know?” 

Geonhak risks a peek over the side of the platform and feels all his organs lurch. 

Dongju giggles. “The sooner you do it, the sooner you can say you’ve done it. Okay, you’re going to hold your feet together, your arms by your sides. Like… as if you were standing really straight and tall.” 

Geonhak feels the gulp in his throat. 

“… and then you just jump. It’ll hurt, so I want you to be prepared for that – but you’ll be okay.” 

Geonhak edges closer to the open end of the platform. 

“Do you want me to give you a count? Like, 3, 2, 1, go?” 

Geonhak shakes his head no. To his immense relief, Dongju stops talking. 

He takes a deep breath, sets his shoulders back and down, presses his arms and hands by his sides as instructed… and jumps. 

The descent is _insane_ – flying and falling and everything good and bad all at once and before he can think of a single thing, a single thought, a single – the _SHOCK_ and impact of the water battering his feet – 

_It feels like concrete._

But then he’s underwater, and then the water pressure pushes him back up in a cloud of splash and bubbles and air, and he’s laughing and gasping like a madman, bobbing on the surface of the pool.

“SCOOT!” yells Dongju from the top of the platform, and Geonhak quickly swims to the edge of the pool. He hoists himself onto the tiled floor, bottoms of his feet still smarting from the impact. He watches as Dongju executes a simple back dive into the water – though no less elegant for its simplicity. There’s hardly a ripple as Dongju disappears under the surface of the water.

“Show-off,” Geonhak tells the diver, when he resurfaces. 

Dongju laughs, shaking water from his hair. “If I wanted to show off, I would have. That’s just legitimately the fastest way down. You think I’m climbing all those steps down to meet you here? Come on, let’s get showered.”

Which is when Geonhak realizes they’ll be showering together. 

When they get to the locker rooms, though, Geonhak sees that the facility is modern and somewhat luxurious, with well-curtained, separate showers. 

He’s almost disappointed. 

_____ 

That evening, Dongju invites him inside. 

Given how much time divers spend plunging into a pool, soaking in hot tubs, or showering, Geonhak thought Dongju would be a water creature. 

Instead, he’s convinced the diver is made entirely of flames. Touching and tasting and _feeling_ Dongju ignites all of Geonhak’s nerves. He must be literally on fire; if he could see under his own skin, Geonhak is sure he would see the glowing, warm embers of live coals. 

Every fingernail Dongju scratches down Geonhak’s back is a lit match, branding Geonhak with the diver’s scorching intentions. Each of his moans crackles like a forest fire.

Funny, then, that only giving fully into the fire, leaving his soul bare to Dongju’s passion, eventually simmers down the raging inferno under Geonhak’s skin. 

Fully spent, feeling mostly dead, Geonhak collapses like ashes into Dongju’s bed. 

In the middle of the night, Geonhak realizes that he’s stark awake in the darkness, and that – going by the sound of his breathing – Dongju is, too. He reaches a hand out and pulls the diver closer in to him, savoring every curve of his lean, warm body. 

A sliver of moonlight makes it through the curtains and falls across the smooth, pale curve of Dongju’s shoulder. 

“Ju-yah,” he says softly, into Dongju’s hair. 

“Mm?” 

“Did you mean what you said? That you like hitting the water?” 

Dongju is quiet; the sliver of moonlight on his shoulder slowly bends with each gentle breath. Finally, he turns over to face Geonhak. “Yeah, I meant it. And diving as a whole… I love what I do. Even if I can never be the best at it – even if I can never be a Yeo Hwanwoong – I can’t imagine ever wanting to do anything else.”

Geonhak feels a sense of peace settle over him. He kisses Dongju on the forehead, feeling a small echo of a flame lick his senses, then sinks back to sleep.

_____ 

Dongmyeong introduces Geonhak to his idol boyfriend as “my brother’s boyfriend,” and Dongju’s face doesn’t even register a flicker of surprise or hesitation. 

The idol himself is tall and handsome, but goofy and sweet. He makes puppy-dog eyes at the shorter twin somewhat constantly, and Geonhak is on the verge of scoffing when he realizes he’s probably been making the same faces at his own twin. 

And Dongju is _his_ twin, now.

It’s an exhilarating feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my name is SunriseSeaMonster and I am SO SO SO EXCITED about Come Back Home but also, if we're being honest, still addicted to A Song Written Easily.
> 
> [Gap Crush version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvVOrvRWotM) forever! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang. I did it again: this last chapter is far longer than the previous ones. 
> 
> Anyway... grab a mug of tea, and I'll catch you on the flipside, okay? 
> 
> Much love.  
> \- S.S.M.

Youngjo cannot contain his grin. “I knew something was up when you wanted to go to the diving competition in Sagamihara instead of covering track and field, here at home.” 

“But you don’t mind?” Geonhak thinks he knows the answer, but he wants to hear it explicitly. 

“Hell, no! I know you well enough to not even question whether you’d let this affect your writing. Besides, by the time the diving competition season starts back up, Seoho will be back to cover it.”

Geonhak realizes he’s going to miss being the diving correspondent for Korea Sports Weekly. Still, his dominant emotion is relief. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Youngjo looks amused. “I know you’re not always quick to open up to people, and I’m kind of intrigued to know more about this guy that has you wrapped around his little finger.” 

Geonhak nods, now unable to shake the image of that gummy, dimpled smile. “He’s pretty special, hyung. You’re going to like him.” 

“I don’t doubt it. Hey, before you go…” 

“Yeah?”

Youngjo looks a little sheepish. “I know you were there for fun, not business. But do you mind doing a quick write-up of that gymnastics meet you attended? We kind of went all-in planning your diving coverage, and I may have forgotten that we were supposed to do a gymnastics feature on the website this week. I just can’t keep track of it all.”

Geonhak laughs. “Sure thing, boss. Look who’s forgetting about judged sports now…” 

“Can it, Kim Geonhak!”

_____ 

A few weeks after the dinner with Dongmyeong and his boyfriend, an unusually warm weekend is forecast, fairly late into the autumn weather. As soon as Geonhak sees the temperature prediction, he immediately knows how to spend the following day. 

**Geonhak**  
_Be ready to go tomorrow morning at 8. Oh, and bring a swimsuit._

**Dongju the Diver**  
_8 in the morning? On a Saturday?_

**Geonhak**  
_Yes_

**Dongju the Diver**  
_Where are we going?_

**Geonhak**  
_Not leaping off any more building sized diving platforms, that much I will tell you_

**Dongju the Diver**  
_You’re not telling me?_

**Geonhak**  
_Nope_

**Dongju the Diver**  
_You want me to just trust you?_

**Geonhak**  
_Yes_

**Dongju the Diver**  
_… Fine. 8am. I’m bringing my tablet pre-loaded with musicals, so if it’s something boring, you’re on your own while I enjoy my Saturday my way_

**Geonhak**  
_Deal._

It’s Geonhak’s turn for a surprise. A small one, but still. It should be fun – a great memory for the future.

_____ 

“Where are we going that it’s going to take us over two hours to drive there?!” 

“It won’t be that bad! I see you brought your elephant plushie. If you want to nap in the car, I don’t mind. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” 

“And miss the opportunity to provide helpful comments on your driving? Never!” 

If it were anyone else saying this, Geonhak would take it for an empty, joking threat. His boyfriend, though, is not like anyone else.

Geonhak sighs. “This is my surprised face.” He opens the passenger side car door. “Alright, in you go. The sooner we leave here, the sooner we get there. Comment away, boyfriend of mine.” 

But Dongju falls asleep almost as soon as they hit the calm, divided highway. 

When Geonhak at last pulls off the highway and is waiting at a traffic light, he risks a quick glance at Dongju. The diver’s long lashes flutter gently above dark circles under his eyes. Strange. This should be a more restful season for Dongju, and it is a little weird that he’s this tired on a Saturday morning. Before Geonhak can think about it further, the light changes, and he switches his attention back to driving. 

“Gangneung? You brought me to the beach?” Dongju’s face is excited, eyes now sparkling. 

“I even brought your favorite sunscreen and everything. I poked around your bathroom cabinet to see what I should buy. Man, you have a _lot_ of skincare products.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing on Dongmyeong’s skincare stash. You would be shocked.” 

Geonhak thinks for a second. “I believe it. Though he must be pretty secure in himself to be dating an idol for years.”

“He is. Now, anyway.” Dongju shrugs. “I think it was a little bit of a process. But to be honest, divers are used to having every millimeter of our bodies filmed in high definition. We’re used to scrutiny. Some of us…” He hesitates. “Some of us handle it better than others. But there’s no way around it.”

Geonhak nods. “Fair. Alright, help me set up this beach tent; I know you hate swimming, but I don’t want us to bake to death in full sunlight all day, either.” 

Several hours of reading, playing in the surf, and making out lazily in the heat later, they lie down in the tent. Geonhak grabs a book from his bag, and Dongju fiddles with his headphones, queuing up a musical on his tablet.

Dongju pauses his musical setup and asks, “Why the beach, today? Just wanted to take advantage of the weather?” 

“Reminds me of Rio,” answers Geonhak. “That was sort of our first date. Kind of, right?” 

“Do you mean the rooftop? Or when Bora and I found you on the beach?”

“Either, I guess – but I meant Bora and you finding me on the beach. I was a little tipsy, and you made fun of the t-shirt Keonhee had packed for me – ” 

“Which you wear all the time now,” interrupts Dongju. “I think it’s in my laundry right now.”

“ – but it was the first time I thought you might not hate me forever.” 

“I never hated you. I was just… cautious. Hot reporter dude, asking invasive questions… But I never hated you.” 

“Well, I know that now.” Geonhak gives Dongju a kiss on the forehead. “How is Bora, anyway? You haven’t mentioned her in weeks.” 

Dongju’s expression becomes a touch more guarded. “Fine.” He doesn’t elaborate.

Geonhak decides not to push it. “Okay,” he says. He goes back to his book. 

Dongju shifts to lay his head on Geonhak’s shoulder. He doesn’t turn on the musical, choosing instead to simply lie there, awake and seemingly lost in thought. 

Geonhak lets him do so, without comment. Eventually, he takes Dongju’s hand in his own. To his surprise, the diver doesn’t say anything, but he clings to Geonhak’s hand with a strength Geonhak cannot explain. 

Dongju’s grip only loosens when he falls asleep again, sinking into a restless nap, his eyebrows drawn together in his dreams. 

Dongju kisses him goodbye that night with a ferocity of purpose Geonhak hasn’t experienced since the night they first slept together. 

“Be safe getting home,” the diver finally says. “And… thank you.” He looks deeply into Geonhak’s eyes, as if searching for something.

“Any time,” answers the reporter, feeling slightly off-kilter, but unsure why that could be the case. 

_____ 

The next day, Geonhak is putting on his shoes to go to Keonhee’s apartment when Dongju calls. 

“Hi, Dongju!” 

“Hi, hyung.” 

“What’s up?” asks Geonhak. 

Dongju doesn’t immediately answer, and Geonhak thinks he hears the muffled sounds of sniffling over the connection. 

“Are you okay, Ju-yah?” 

“Geonhak-hyung?”

“Yeah?” 

“I think… I think I need a break, okay?”

“A break? From what?” Geonhak’s mouth suddenly feels very, very dry. 

“From… from us.”

Geonhak’s heart leaps into his throat. He presses his forehead against his apartment door. “Dongju, are you okay? I mean, if that’s what you want, I can respect that, but… did something happen?” 

Dongju’s voice is strained, upset. “Of _course_ you can respect that. You can respect anything. God, you’re always acting like you’re such an angel.” 

Geonhak’s mind spins. “Did I do something?” 

“I’ll… Maybe I’ll call you sometime, okay?” Dongju hangs up the line. 

Geonhak stares at his phone screen, displaying the finished call time, in disbelief. He sinks to the floor, sitting right on top of his shoes.

Keonhee comes over to his place, instead. He cooks Geonhak dinner, not even eating all the best bits himself. He borrows pajamas from Geonhak and spends the night with him, thin frame hugging his friend’s sturdier body, letting the reporter pretend not to cry silently into his pillowcase. 

A few days later, Geonhak tries calling Dongju. He doesn’t pick up; Geonhak doesn’t leave a message. 

He tries texting a few times, then gives up.

_____ 

Keonhee knows Geonhak doesn’t want to talk about it, but he accidentally slips up one evening and mentions Dongju’s name. He winces, but then his expression shifts. “Hyung, I have to say, though… he seemed nice the few times we hung out, but just dropping you like that was super cold. Maybe he really is a jerk.”

Geonhak groans. He scoots off Keonhee’s terrible sofa and onto the floor. “He _isn’t,_ though. I know you think I’m just blinded by love or whatever, but he’s not a jerk. Something’s up, and I just… I wish I knew how to reach out to him, tell him it’s okay if he needs to pull back a little. But just… dropping me entirely? It doesn’t make any sense to me.” 

Keonhee sighs. “Well, I’m really grateful that you’re not stalking his social media or whatever people do.” 

“I mean, if he were on any SNS, I probably would be. But he’s a pretty private guy, mostly.” 

Keonhee laughs. “You know that’s exactly what people say about you, right? I actually thought that was one reason you two worked well together; you sort of brought each other out of your shells a bit. But it’s been how long now?”

“About a month.” _34 days,_ thinks Geonhak. 

“Yeah, it doesn’t sound promising. Pretty sure it’s time to at least think about moving on.” 

Geonhak nods, but his insides recoil. 

The next day, Geonhak does something he know Keonhee would disapprove of: he texts Dongju’s twin brother. 

**Geonhak**  
_Hi Dongmyeong, sorry to bug you_

The answer doesn’t arrive until several hours later.

**Dongmyeong**  
_Hi hyung! what’s up?_

**Geonhak**  
_I promise I’m not trying to get you to intercede or anything – but I just wanted to know whether Dongju was okay. That’s literally all. I just want to know that he is okay._

**Dongmyeong**  
_I’m not sure how you want me to answer this_

**Geonhak**  
_Please don’t frighten me. He didn’t tell me anything. Is he okay?_

**Dongmyeong**  
_I really don’t want to be some sort of middleman for you_

**Geonhak**  
_I totally get that. Okay, how about this: just… I know he’s your brother, and I trust you to take care of him_

**Dongmyeong**  
_Thank you_

**Geonhak**  
_Just please tell me either that he’s okay or that you will fight for him until he is, and I promise I will leave both you and him alone forever, okay?_

**Dongmyeong**  
_He’s okay, hyung. And if he weren’t, I wouldn’t just fight for him. I would absolutely lay down every cell in my body in the way of anyone or anything that was keeping him from being okay._

**Geonhak**  
_Thank you_

**Dongmyeong**  
_You’re welcome. Take care._

**Geonhak**  
_You too, Dongmyeong_

Geonhak feels lighter. No less sad, but… lighter, as though it might be possible to breathe fully again, to expand his shoulders against the tightness of the air pushing down around him.

He goes to bed that night and lies awake, hour after hour, staring at his ceiling.

_____ 

Youngjo sends Geonhak home early the next day. “Get some rest,” he says. 

Geonhak doesn’t know how to tell him that even if he did manage to sleep, he wouldn’t rest. Rest implies a change – a modification from weariness to freshness, from exhaustion to alertness. 

And right now… there is no change in Geonhak’s general daily experience. The colors of his days have begun to blend together. 

Geonhak tries to spend more time with people in both professional and personal settings, attempting to fill in the faded colors of his un-restful, unchanged life. 

He feels no inner flames, talking to any of them. It’s worst when people are _pleasant_. Not rude, not amazing, not anything but _pleasant._

He just wants to burn. 

Why did the gods punish humans for wanting fire, again? What else was there for humanity, before they learned what flames meant? Were humans supposed to live in gray caves, forever? 

Yeah, he’d very much like to burn.

That, or even just to feel the shock of concrete, the impact of water from a 10-meter freefall. 

Anything, to feel alive.

_____ 

Geonhak goes home for Chuseok. His parents are delighted to see him, though dismayed to learn he’s still single. He doesn’t clarify that it’s not “still” – it’s “again.”

His brother surprises him by announcing he’s read all of Geonhak’s extended features on Korea’s place in the international diving scene and expressing informed opinions on the direction of the sport.

“You know,” his brother muses after their discussion, “It’s funny. I thought you hated judged sports.” 

“I don’t know why everybody thinks that,” grumbles Geonhak. 

“Well… you do write about diving as though you care about it. It’s good stuff, bro. I haven’t enjoyed any sports writing half as much, in a long time.” 

Geonhak thanks his brother and excuses himself to use the bathroom. 

Fortunately, he makes it through the rest of Chuseok without any more mentions of diving. 

_____ 

As the weather chills, the trees drop their leaves, and Seoul’s bright summer fashions are obscured by increasingly drab woolen outerwear. 

Geonhak looks down a row of bare trees, silhouetted black against a pale gray sky, on the way to work. He realizes it’s not he who has changed – his life still feeling colorless – but the world, now shifting to match his inner state. 

For a brief, insane moment, he thinks to himself, _I did it! It’s me! I have power!_

It’s only then that he realizes part of what’s bothered him since Dongju left: a sense of powerlessness. Powerlessness to keep hold of the incandescent man with fire in his eyes; powerlessness to help Dongju in the face of what Geonhak still believes, deep in his heart, to be a trouble unrelated to Geonhak himself. 

He buckles over, ignoring the stares of the other pedestrians. He turns back home and texts Youngjo that he’ll be taking a sick day. 

Instead of entering through to his apartment, though, Geonhak decides to sit on the stoop of the building, trying to merge the starkness of the dingy weather with the dreariness he feels inside. He watches the city traffic, amusing himself by creating backstories for passing pedestrians. He feels his body chill and ache, the longer he sits on the cold stone steps, but – he almost feels alive. 

He’s about to head inside when he sees a figure in a long, black winter coat turn onto his street. It’s been weeks since his mind insisted on telling him every lean, young man a few centimeters shorter than Geonhak was Dongju… but this man really does walk a _lot_ like him. 

This is because, as Geonhak eventually realizes (with a shiver totally unrelated to his chilled body), it _is_ Dongju. 

The diver approaches, and Geonhak can see exactly when he clocks Geonhak sitting on the stoop. His footsteps slow noticeably, but he doesn’t turn back. 

Dongju stops in front of the building and faces Geonhak from the sidewalk. “Hi,” he says, looking more than a little uncomfortable. 

“Hi,” says Geonhak. 

“I was just… passing through by chance, out for a walk,” says Dongju – which they both know to be a lie. They live in totally different parts of the city. 

“I see,” says Geonhak. 

“Why aren’t you at work?” asks Dongju. 

Geonhak looks at the diver skeptically. “What’s it to you?” 

Dongju purses his lips. “That’s fair. Sorry.” He shuffles his feet, takes a deep breath, and turns to walk away. 

“Wait,” Geonhak calls to him. “Let me make you a hot chocolate. It’s getting chilly. And this must be a hell of a long walk in the cold weather, if you just _happened by_ my doorstep.” 

Dongju’s cheeks flush a bright rosy red. A few months ago, Geonhak would have expected some snarky response, but the diver says nothing, eventually just nodding his head briefly. 

Geonhak stands up from the stoop, legs now stiff, and lets them both into the building. 

Dongju takes off his coat to reveal a soft, brown, chunky-knit sweater, and Geonhak’s breath catches in his throat. It looks very cuddlable. 

Still, Geonhak manages to focus on the task at hand. “Soymilk okay?” he asks. 

“Perfect,” says Dongju, settling rather tentatively into a chair at Geonhak’s small, round table. 

The small saucepan fits just enough soymilk for two oversized mugs of hot chocolate. Geonhak carefully pours out the chocolate and passes Dongju a mug. He sits down next to him at the table. 

Both men are quiet, blowing on the scalding liquid. 

Finally, Dongju sets his mug on the table and sighs. “Sorry I was a dick.” 

Geonhak wants to tell him it’s okay, or that it’s not okay, or to point to his shoes – right there by the door, and say, “That’s where I was. That’s where I was when you broke my heart.” 

Instead, he says, “Why are you really here?” 

Dongju lowers his head and frowns into his mug. “I’m here every day.” 

“You what?” 

The diver sighs again, as if coming to a decision. He sits up straighter and looks at Geonhak. “I said I’m here every day. I walk past every day. It’s supposed to work. Exposure therapy, you know? You see or hear or feel something over and over again until the emotional impact isn’t there anymore. Like when you play a song the first time and it just _kills_ you, it speaks to you like nothing else did, and you don’t know how your mind could feel that emotion without that song, ever before or after. But then you play it over and over again, and eventually… you still like the song, but it doesn’t have the same sway, anymore. Like… you could have it on as background music while you hold a conversation, which would have been unthinkable the first few times you played it.”

Dongju seems to expect a response. Geonhak stops staring at the diver and takes a sip of his hot chocolate before speaking. “So is it working?” 

Dongju’s voice is a whisper. “No.” 

And suddenly, Geonhak is angry. “You realize I tried to reach out, and you just ignored me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You don’t get to feel hurt about missing me or us or whatever. You chose this.” 

Dongju looks as though he’s trying to sink into the chair itself. “I know.” 

“What gives?!” Geonhak’s voice cracks with exasperation. 

A little bit of the fire returns to Dongju’s eyes, snapped back into focus. “I did what I thought I had to do.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It _means_ that I had to help Bora, and I – ” 

But Geonhak interrupts him, livid. “Are you _shitting_ me? This is about Hong Bora?! Are you going to put your whole life on hold for her because she has a crush on you?” 

Dongju scoots his chair back from the table and stands up, angry. “I knew this was a mistake.” 

“What part of it, Dongju? Dating me? You just wanted to fuck the hot reporter who asks invasive questions, then? Or walking by my apartment building every day? Talking to me and actually facing whatever issues need resolving? Which part of it was a mistake?” 

Dongju stops his walk to his coat. He turns to look back at Geonhak. “You have _no idea_ how much this hurt or why I did what I did.” 

Geonhak stands up, too. He’s yelling, now. “You’re right! I don’t know, because _you won’t tell me!_ You don’t trust me at all, and it’s all I’ve ever wanted – to trust you, and have you trust me!” 

Dongju reaches for his coat. “This was a really fucking terrible idea. And you’re right, walking by your apartment doesn’t solve anything.” 

Geonhak realizes he’s desperate – desperate for answers, desperate for Dongju to talk to him, desperate for anything except for the young man in front of him to walk out his apartment door. 

“Ju-yah,” he pleads, trying to control the volume of his voice. Dongju’s face contorts in response to the term of endearment. “Stay. Talk to me. Just for today. Just while you’re here, right now. And then we can go our separate ways forever, okay? You said your approach isn’t working. So let’s get some closure.”

Dongju throws his coat forcefully back onto a hook and makes a loud, frustrated, wordless noise. “I hate this,” he finally says. 

“Okay,” says Geonhak. “That’s fine. Hate it, then. Sit.” He tosses some cushions onto the floor and sits down on one, then pats the cushion next to him with his hand. He winces, recalling a similar moment on the beach in Brazil. 

Dongju sits on a cushion on the floor, as far from Geonhak as possible. He hugs another cushion in between his chest and his knees. “You can’t interrupt anymore, or I’m leaving.” 

Geonhak takes a deep breath. “Understood. I’ll do my best.” 

“I know you think I should cut Bora off, or whatever…” Dongju looks to Geonhak for confirmation, but the reporter sticks to his word and says nothing, so Dongju continues. “The thing is… she’s not always been well. When I said I support her emotionally… she’s not _well,_ Geonhak. And I think you don’t realize what it’s like to be somebody’s primary support when they are struggling, like _really_ struggling.” 

Dongju is right. Geonhak has never been in that position before, not the same way. He nods, encouraging his ex to continue. 

“It… I should have known things were going to get bad, back at Worlds. My whole Worlds experience – ugh, I hate that it’s such a conflicted memory, because I had a top ten finish, and then, well, you. But also, I think it’s when Bora realized she was in trouble. Because she medaled – she _medaled!_ At a World Championship! And felt nothing.” 

Geonhak remembers the distraction in her face during her post-win interview, and the way Dongju had held her close. 

“She felt nothing, and she came to find me immediately after, saying she felt empty. I told her it just hadn’t sunk in yet, because I’m an idiot and I didn’t understand just how empty she felt. I’ve never felt that way about what we do, you know? It’s always meant something to me. But she just felt entirely hollow, like she had achieved this incredible, life-changing feat – which she’d trained toward for most of her life – and didn’t give a damn. Like life was no better or different from when she’d woken up in the morning.” 

This time, Dongju is quiet for long enough that Geonhak risks saying something. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.” 

Dongju looks up from the floor at Geonhak. “Okay. Well, anyway… I didn’t get it. I thought she just needed some time to process the victory. Because, sure, we love what we do, but without the motivation of wanting to win… there’s no way I could keep punishing my body the way I do, or making the sacrifices I’ve made over the years. I would just be diving for fun, on the weekends, or whatever. Not forcing my body into four and a half somersaults on the way down, you know? It takes a special kind of mindset, a special kind of personality, to push someone from being a person who loves sports to deciding to pursue this at an international level.” 

This all rings true to Geonhak; he’s interviewed enough high-level athletes to know that they all share an inner spark, something that outsiders might call craziness. 

“And so, after we got back…” Dongju hesitates. “After you and I had already started dating, I asked her how it was possible. How did she keep going, day in and out, for years, if she didn’t care about her results?”

Geonhak has a sinking feeling, but he merely looks at Dongju with raised eyebrows. 

“She felt like it was all she had. She said she couldn’t have me, or even Dongmyeong, the way her mother wanted – although those two wouldn’t work together at _all,_ anyway…” He pauses, chuckling a touch bitterly at a lifetime of memories Geonhak can only imagine. “But she could have diving, and she could keep telling her mother that she was doing her best to get closer to me, even if she knew it wasn’t true.” 

It takes every ounce of Geonhak’s restraint not to say something, but he manages to keep quiet. 

Dongju sees his face. “Yeah, no… it’s super fucked up. But she really felt like she had no future outside of diving, or me, or our little circle.” He sighs. “Okay, I know you want to say something. Go ahead.” 

Geonhak wants to avoid speaking rashly or upsetting Dongju further. What he finally says is, “You’re speaking in the past tense about this.” 

Dongju nods. “Yeah. Stay with me. So… it got really, really bad, like… Bomin and I were basically taking turns staying with her. Who knows if that was necessary? But we didn’t want to find out the hard way. And I didn’t think it was my place to tell you about it. Like, it’s her private business, right?” 

Geonhak feels a dry lump forming in his throat but nods. 

“But I knew I couldn’t keep it up – hiding it from you and still taking care of her to the degree she needed, at the same time. I honestly thought that telling you I needed a break would be fine – that we’d fix her somehow and then I could just… pick back up with you. Which I realize now is so incredibly, incredibly naïve and selfish.” 

Geonhak allows himself a small, wry smile of agreement. 

“Anyway, it was Bomin who eventually convinced her to talk to our head coach. Lee Chanjoo – she’s fantastic.” Geonhak remembers her: a no-nonsense, capable looking woman perpetually in polo shirts. 

Dongju sets aside the cushion he’s been holding. “Coach-nim did what I never would have thought to do. She convinced Bora to just… quit.” 

“Oh, my God.” It slips out of Geonhak’s astonished mouth before he can help it. 

But Dongju isn’t bothered, nodding in agreement. “I know! I know. She just medaled at Worlds. _Worlds!_ Crazy, right? To get to that level, to have put in that much time and effort and dieting and people scrutinizing your body 24/7 and injuries and the rest of it – only to walk away? Right at her peak? But Coach-nim decided it wasn’t right for her to be sacrificing her mental and emotional health for this sport, no matter how good she might be at it or how many medals she might bring the national team.” 

Geonhak decides he likes Coach Lee Chanjoo. Seeing a pause in Dongju’s explanation, he chances a question. “Didn’t you say that diving was all she felt she had? How could quitting help?” 

“Well, I guess that’s why I didn’t think of it as a potential solution. Neither did Bomin, and Bomin is her _twin._ ” The diver says this last part in a way that implies – probably correctly – that only another twin could understand the magnitude of that statement. “But she _has_ quit, and it’s been just as helpful as Coach-nim predicted it would be. She’s free to spend more time with her family, free to eat and live normally, free to look into other hobbies or careers. Bora’s always liked math and achieved great academic test results. She’s thinking about becoming a math teacher – and I think she’ll be a great one.” 

Dongju suddenly laughs – the abrupt sound of his stuttering laugh a little muted, dry. “Okay, I’ve been talking so much that my throat is parched.” He stands up from the floor. “Let me just grab the rest of my hot chocolate, though I guess it’s probably cold, by now. When I sit back down, you can talk, if you want.” 

_There’s_ the sass Geonhak knows and loves. “How gracious of you,” he says. 

Dongju simply smirks and then sits back down on the floor, mug in hand. 

Geonhak’s tone softens. “Dongju… you said Bora’s been doing better, right? For a while now?” 

“Yeah. A lot better. She’s also living back with her parents in Gwangju, which I think is ideal. I got the impression that Coach-nim talked some sense into her mother, although I don’t know all the details.” 

“So… you said you thought we could take a break, and then we could just pick up where we’d left off. Why didn’t you reach out?” 

Dongju looks at Geonhak in confusion. “Because I realized I was a moron to think that would work in the first place. I’m stupid, but I’m not _that_ stupid, I guess. Over a month had passed. At first, I just didn’t have the energy or ability or whatever to respond to your calls or texts, and then… it was too late. And that means I don’t get to just waltz back in and demand you take me back like nothing happened. Would you really have just… taken me back, just like that?” 

Geonhak nods. “Probably.” 

Dongju stares at him. 

Geonhak clears his throat. “At this point… it would be a lot harder. But a month ago? Weeks ago? If you had just told me then what you told me now? Probably. I’ve never met anyone like you.” 

Dongju’s face contorts into something entirely unreadable. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m just trying to repair my ego, but I’m curious,” says Geonhak. “Would you… would you want to get back together? Even now?” 

Dongju sets his mug down on the floor and hugs his knees. He doesn’t meet Geonhak’s eyes. “Yes.” 

Geonhak’s organs suddenly feel like icicles; his insides are cold, sharp, and painful. “Okay. I don’t think I can do that right now…” Dongju nods, looking miserable. “But I think we should keep talking, okay?” 

Dongju looks up at him and nods again, a little less miserably now. “Okay. … Yeah… okay.” 

“Maybe if we give each other enough time, we could still work something out, but I really can’t commit to anything right now.” 

Dongju lets go of his knees and startles Geonhak by flopping melodramatically onto his side. “This day went totally nuts.” 

Geonhak feels a little adrift. He laughs, somehow. “Do you mind?” 

“Do I _mind?!_ Well, it has been totally exhausting, to be honest. I don’t even think I’ve talked to Dongmyeong about this in this much detail.” Geonhak’s surprise must be evident, because Dongju adds, “Yes, really.” 

“But other than that?” 

Dongju sighs, still lying on his side on the floor. “I’m mostly just exhausted right now, hyung. I can’t think past that. And it’s still morning.” 

Geonhak catches the _hyung_ and feels his breath catch. He steadies his breathing and asks, “Do you want to just… take a nap here? On the sofa, I mean. I haven’t been sleeping well, either, so I might go lie down for a nap, myself.” 

Dongju sits up. “That’s a… weird idea.” He sizes up Geonhak. “I like it. Yeah, sure. Yes, if you’ve got a spare blanket. It’s not quite a plushie, but it’ll do.” 

As Geonhak is preparing pillows and a blanket for Dongju, the diver asks him, “Geonhak-hyung?” 

“Yeah?” 

“How long… when should we talk about it again?” 

“You mean… a relationship?” asks Geonhak.

“Yeah.” Dongju suddenly looks childish, hesitant. 

Geonhak exhales. “Maybe give me… at least a week before even bringing it up again.” 

“Okay.” 

Geonhak tucks Dongju into the sofa, watching his eyes flutter with relief as he settles into the blanket. _Those damn eyelashes._

The reporter crawls into his own bed. He doesn’t set an alarm, figuring he’ll wake up in an hour or two, anyway. 

_____ 

The light is completely different in Geonhak’s room when he awakens. He checks his phone: 3 o’clock in the afternoon. _Damn._

Well, he did have an exhausting morning. 

There are a couple of missed messages on his phone. 

**Dongju the Diver**  
_Thank you for the blanket and pillows._

**Dongju the Diver**  
_Talk to you in… at least a week!_

Geonhak laughs, despite himself.

To Geonhak’s surprise, he has no problems feeling sleepy at his regular bedtime that evening. 

To his even greater surprise, he wakes up the next morning feeling well-rested. Yes – rested. Maybe even refreshed, a bit. Better, at any rate, than he’s felt in many long weeks. 

As soon as he arrives at work, Geonhak’s colleagues notice a change in his demeanor. When Youngjo asks who wants coffee, Hyangsook points at Geonhak and says, “I’ll take whatever he’s on to be so peppy this morning.” 

Even Youngjo says, “I’m glad you took the sick day. Looks like you needed it.” 

Geonhak doesn’t know how to respond, so he just nods curtly, hoping the telltale warming of his cheeks isn’t as outwardly visible as he fears it must be. 

Yesterday’s gray skies give way to rain, today, and Geonhak hurries home in the downpour, huddling against the sides of buildings in a futile attempt to stay dry. 

He dries off at home and decides he’ll just place an order for delivery. It’s been a while since he treated himself to chicken and beer; tonight’s the night. He’ll stay cozy at home. After the day he had yesterday, he wants the most chilled, relaxing, stress-free evening possible. 

He’s about to place his order when the buzzer to his apartment sounds. Momentarily confused – _how could the chicken arrive before he even confirms the order?_ – Geonhak presses the intercom button.

“Hello?” he asks. 

“Can we pretend it’s been a week?” asks Dongju’s voice. 

Geonhak doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he presses the button to admit Dongju inside the building. 

He opens the door to his apartment before Dongju has finished climbing the steps to reach it. The diver is _soaked,_ puddles trailing him up the building’s staircase.

Geonhak greets him by saying, “Did you come here without an umbrella just so you’d look more pathetic, and my big, soft heart would simply melt with pity?”

Dongju grins, waterlogged shoes squeaking as he crosses the last few steps to Geonhak’s door. “Yes,” he says, without a trace of shame. 

“Fuck,” Geonhak sighs. “I hate being predictable. Let’s get you dried off. My clothes will be too big on you, but you will absolutely not catch a cold because of this.” 

As Dongju is peeling off his soggy coat and shoes, Geonhak’s eyes catch on a sturdy plastic bag. “What’s in the bag?” 

“A shirt.” 

“What, you brought a spare? Okay, fine, one less item to borrow from me.” 

Dongju shakes his head. “No, it’s not mine. Look, grab me some dry clothing, and I’ll tell you after.”

Geonhak shakes his head but walks back to his bedroom to pick out a clean set of clothing. He places the stack of clothing on the bathroom counter, next to the sink, then pointedly indicates for Dongju to get changed in the bathroom. 

The diver complies, emerging warm, dry, and achingly cute in Geonhak’s oversized clothing. 

“So what’s in the bag?” asks Geonhak. 

“You know,” says Dongju, still standing outside the bathroom door, instead of moving toward the bag, “I knew you were weirdly obsessed with that shirt, but it’s even stronger than I thought. You have like… radar for it. It’s so strange. Now I feel bad for having kept it from you for so many weeks – like maybe without it, your life force has just been seeping away. I just… I didn’t know how to return it to you.” 

Now Geonhak knows what’s inside the bag. 

He doesn’t go to the bag; he steps toward Dongju and folds him into a deep, silent hug. The feeling of the diver in his arms nearly overwhelms him, warmth flickering up from somewhere deep inside his core. _Fire-flickers,_ he thinks. 

The gentle movement of the diver’s breaths against his own body suddenly triggers something deep within Geonhak, and he is shocked to feel a tear escape his eye, languorously winding its way down his cheek before suddenly dropping into Dongju’s hair. He releases one hand from behind Dongju’s back, to wipe the tear-track away, only to discover his other eye is threatening to overspill, now, too. 

“Fuck,” he croaks, letting go of Dongju entirely to go find a tissue. 

“God, I’m sorry,” says Dongju, voice trembling and unsure. “I didn’t… I didn’t think I would upset you this much by coming here today – I didn’t know – ” 

But Geonhak interrupts his apology, dabbing his face frantically with tissues torn roughly from the box. “No, you idiot.” 

Dongju laughs weakly, his eyes wide and nervous. “So you do think I’m an idiot.” 

“No, _no._ You’re just acting like one now.” His tears only increase, and he finally gives up on the tissues, flinging the box on the table in frustration. “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“What? What’s happening?” Dongju looks bewildered. 

“You really don’t get it?” Geonhak tries to smile, but his face insists on crying, instead. He must look horrific. 

“No…?” 

“I am so fucking in love with you that my lousy, fucking body is apparently having a meltdown.”

Dongju blinks at him in surprise, then closes the space between them. He wraps his arms around Geonhak, then speaks, his voice gentle. “God knows why. I know why I love you, though. Because when everybody else thinks I’m some sort of troll or jerk, you see me for who I am. Because when you’re amused by something you scrunch your nose, which makes me want to scream, it’s so cute.” 

He takes a deep breath, then continues. “Because you actually make love to me instead of just fucking me. Because you literally jumped off a building for me. Well, into water, but it counts. Because when you ask me how my brother is, it’s because you care about my family, instead of just fetishizing the fact that we’re twins.” 

The diver adjusts his hug, pulling Geonhak in even closer. “Because your voice is low and gravelly and sexy as fuck, and never ever monotone. Because your company uploaded pictures to its social media sites with you holding some baby, and I actually screamed out loud with desire and longing for having that with you, one day. Because you genuinely listen to me, whether I’m talking about diving or anything else. Because you bother to find out what kind of sunscreen I use, although to be honest I really don’t give a shit; I thought you should know, like… any kind is fine.” 

Geonhak laughs through the torrent of tears. His voice comes out sounding more like a burst of hiccups. “Didn’t we just get you dry? I’m getting this horrible wet spot on your shoulder.” 

“Well, I don’t give a fuck about that, either, hyung.” 

Geonhak makes one last half-hearted attempt to wipe the tears off his face before kissing Dongju full on the lips, feeling a flame travel straight through the saltwater on his lips. 

He doesn’t stop kissing his fiery diver until the sound of his rumbling stomach makes both of them giggle into each other’s mouths. 

“Um,” says Geonhak. “Do you want to get delivery chicken and beer?”

“Yeah, okay.” 

Still, they stay wrapped in each other’s arms until Geonhak’s tears slow, and his breathing returns to something halfway closer to normal. 

It’s only fair, thinks Geonhak, that Dongju’s breath has gone a little ragged, to match.

_____ 

Keonhee eventually comes back around to trusting Dongju, although he keeps a wary eye on the reunited couple, for months. 

They eventually bond over music. Keonhee is astonished to learn how deep Dongju’s knowledge of musicals extends. Despite being a professional athlete, Dongju is not, apparently, just “a sports person” – rather, he’s a real person with varied interests and the intelligence to speak with fervor about any of them. 

Geonhak knows he’s in trouble the day he meets them for dinner, and Dongju is already in Keonhee’s apartment, both of them dancing like maniacs to songs from _Frozen._

The two of them together are going to be a menace. 

Geonhak can’t wait. 

_____ 

Coach Lee Chanjoo decides, almost on a whim, to try pairing Hwanwoong with Dongmyeong instead of Dongju. The partnership works, immediately. They settle into a synchronized diving rhythm in a way that never quite clicked for Hwanwoong and Dongju. 

“It might not make as much sense on paper,” Dongju tells Geonhak, “But sometimes you just have to try things. If it’s stupid, but it works… it’s not stupid.” 

Fortunately, the diving team’s funding for the next season should allow all three to travel to competitions; Hwanwoong and Dongmyeong as the synchro team, and Dongju competing alongside Hwanwoong for the individual 10-meter platform titles. 

Geonhak watches his boyfriend grow stronger and more confident, moving fully out from the shadow of being known only as “one of the Son twins.” His heart swells with pride, every day a little more, and a little more, and yet still a little more – until he decides he might actually need a new ribcage just to contain its beating. 

_____ 

Dongju moves in with Geonhak. They host a small get-together to celebrate. 

Seoho and Hyungu bring Haneul, and Seoho passes her to Geonhak’s arms. She beams at the reporter’s face and says, “Dada!” 

Her fathers stare. As great as it is to hear her say her first word, it would have been rather nicer if it had been directed at either of them, everyone kindly agrees. 

Dongju nearly passes out. 

Keonhee also nearly passes out. It would have been swell, he tells Geonhak, if anybody had ever bothered to mention to him over the years that Korea News Weekly’s cool, bi boss also happens to be hot as actual sin. And single.

Funnily enough, nobody seems all that flustered by the presence of Dongmyeong’s famous, idol boyfriend. 

When Dongju mentions this to Geonhak later, the reporter simply responds, “Who would they be looking at, other than you? Don’t be daft.”

Dongju goes to swat Geonhak, who just laughs and dodges. Geonhak’s not too worried. He’s learned to bite back, sometimes. 

_____ 

Lying in bed one weekend morning, Geonhak wakes up to Dongju pressing kisses against his neck, then jaw, then ear. Then collarbone.

Geonhak groans happily. If it’s morning sex his lover wants, morning sex he shall receive… 

But Dongju interrupts his sleep-heavy fumbling with a question. “Geonhakie? Do you remember the first time we made love?” 

“Mm-hrm.” Geonhak had never before felt actual fire in his veins. 

“You asked me, after, if I really liked the impact of hitting the water.” 

“That… that sounds familiar. I think I did ask that.” Geonhak’s voice is even lower than it usually is. He hasn’t quite woken up all the way, yet. 

“Ask me again.” 

Geonhak looks at his boyfriend – not sure where this is going, but happy to play along. “Okay. Dongju-yah, cutest diver alive, do you enjoy hitting the water when you dive?” 

“Yes. But not because I need the shock or hurt to feel alive anymore, but because it means I’ve made it down to your level, again. I stand at the top of the platform now, and I think – this is it. I’m 10 meters to heaven. That’s all it takes, and I can be right where he is, again.” 

Geonhak stares at the diver. “You’re perfect,” he finally says. 

Dongju answers this decree with morning sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- * - * - * -
> 
> Me: What if we tried writing WeUs ships that people actually want to read, instead of the harebrained stuff we usually come up with? 
> 
> Kazzuality: I dunno, could be fun. Wanna try it? 
> 
> Me: Sure! Guess I'll do XiDo, since I already know I like writing from Geonhak's point of view. 
> 
> Kazzuality: Sounds good! 
> 
> Me: It'll probably just be a silly little oneshot or whatever. 
> 
> Kazzuality: Yeah, makes sense. 
> 
> Me: Okay, cool.
> 
> [I'm so glad I gave them more than a short oneshot!]
> 
> \- * - * - * -
> 
> I kind of can't believe people were willing to read a chaptered fic about competitive diving! Pretty sure this story embodies the trope of "the [subject] nobody asked for." 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos, comments, and other encouragement. Sometimes I feel more like a Hong Bora in a world of Yeo Hwanwoongs; your support means the world to me. 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/WeUsTessa)  
> 
> 
> \- * - * - * - 
> 
> **HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KIM GEONHAK!**


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